Tales Beyond The Multiverse
by Mangaverse Planeswalker
Summary: Different stories. Different planes. A collection of stories about the lives of planeswalkers in worlds beyond the known Multiverse.
1. Cain's Story: Tale of the Toymaker

**Author's Note:** This is in fact one huge crossover featuring different stories (most of them anime and anime-related). Sorry if it's this long but you can say I wrote this when I was bored and tired from work. I can't say if it's a collection of one-shots because some of what I've got planned will be related. However, please know that there will be more. Feedback is appreciated but nothing too harsh as I tend to write this stuff with a tired mind and just wanted to let all these _M:TG_fanfic ideas out of my head.

000

Bolts of lightning flashed down upon the long rod atop the lone, lighthouse manor.

Yet despite this storm, not a single drop of rain fell upon the shingles of the coned rooftop. The wind still blew strongly though, as it always does in climates near the ocean.

The building stood close to the very edge of a steep cliff, overlooking the violent sea. The high but gentle crashing of the waves deceptively lulled all those who hear only to be once again shaken by the thunder.

The lighthouse itself rose high above the rest of the manor proper. Though technically regarded as a lighthouse by Nephalian locals, this was one sailors would sooner flee than flock to make port. The blue light it released from its beacon was most often faint, flickering strongly only when it receives another lightning surge.

The rest of the house below was as expansive as the tower was high. Its girth stretched along the remaining edges of the cliff. The ornate, mansard roof was of cobalt blue and crowned with six chimneys of black brick. Staring out of them was a single row of darkened windows. Their blackness was barely lit by the flashes of the storm above.

Then again, there was not much light in the windows below either. Two rows for two floors yet not a single sign of a soul in sight.

On the occasion that this did not frighten those passing by, one need only look at what lay between them.

Countless tombstones dotted the yard like ornaments chosen by someone of twisted taste. Encircling it all the way to the cliff was a high wall topped with arrow-shaped spikes.

Now unlike the famed, geist-ridden mist known as the Nebelgast, the climate that raged above was not natural for the residents of the coastal province.

Not natural, yet not surprising either.

In a region known for its black, necromantic Corpse Market, it's quite clear that this was the work of the twisted alchemists known as skaberen.

Recently, there have been a surge of these artificial lightning storms all across Nephalia. The brilliant energy they provided made for a new, unexpected source of power for reanimating the dead.

Be it ghouls or skaabs, these storms only made it easier for cadaver-obsessed madmen to command all sorts of rotting monstrosities.

The Church of Avacyn had begun taking action against these defilers of both the Blessed Sleep and now the rightful dominion of the archangel over the clouds and the sky. They have succeeded, so far, in eliminating those who didn't station their laboratories in isolated mansions and secluded castles (which means they never had much success to begin with).

"So... that is the so-called Toymaker's Tower?" spoke a man's voice.

The man in question stood from afar, surveying the lighthouse through a black, ornate telescope. The tails of his white coat fluttered in the wind while the rest remained bound by a heavy chest-plate of silver. The golden symbol of Avacyn's Collar was emblazoned upon its front. Around his waist was a thick leather belt where a single longsword was sheathed in its fine scabbard. Upon his head was a sleek tricorne, lined with gold.

He lowered the scope and stroked his auburn goatee when another man answered.

"Aye... and by the angels I swear, I hear that many of our brothers and sisters have fallen to bring it down. And yet look, it still stands!"

The first man shifted his stern, bluish eyes in this other man's direction. In contrast to him, the latter wore a ragged cloak that barely concealed the bulky armor underneath or the symbol of the Collar on his chest. The worn tricorne on his head was larger and shadowed most of what it rested upon.

"I assume that my fellow Inquisitors... were among them, captain?" the former asked.

The larger man gave slow, grave nod and replied, "Aye..."

The Inquisitor immediately scowled and nearly crushed the scope upon sliding it back to its retracted state.

"Then let us not deny them justice any longer..."

"But sir..." the captain began as the Inquisitor began walking down from the hill from which he was observing, "... what of our orders to wait for the Elgaud reinforcements?"

"We've tarried long enough." the man coldly replied, "Orders go both ways. We gave them a time where we would wait but that time will soon be past in the next hour. We might as well rally ourselves now. Come!"

The captain could only nod in grim acknowledgement of his superior's reasoning and followed suit.

"Make way! Make way!" cried an urgent voice in a crowded camp full of a readily armed militia.

The tense crowd it addressed was comprised of a heavily mixed bunch. There were rugged yet thickly clothed peasants, armed with pitchforks, torches, and blessed staves bearing Avacyn's symbol. The other half comprised of the cathars, holy warriors sanctioned by the Church to vanquish the fiends that ceaselessly haunt their world. Their swords, spears, and crossbows seemed stronger in comparison but a closer look would reveal rusts, dents, and the scars of tired fighting.

The captain and the Inquisitor had just returned when they heard it as well. Looking sharply through the throng, he identified the source as a young soldier who has yet barely entered manhood.

"Sir, the reinforcements of Elgaud have arrived!" he announced exasperatedly.

"Well it's about time!" cheered the captain, "Where are they?"

The young man however, looked surprisingly hesitant and just turned to the crowd that was now parting slightly.

The captain's face blanched at what stepped out.

One person. Just one person. One measly looking recruit dressed mostly in just a large blue cloak that bore Avacyn's gold sign. The collar of the cloak was unusually high, concealing most of this stranger's face while a tricorne hid the rest of the top. The only thing that wasn't concealed was a long flow of raven black hair, parted halfway down and tied into braids in either end.

"What's this! One?" exclaimed the captain, "Of all the-!"

"Calm yourself Captain Strouf." said the Inquisitor, his lips forming into an unusual smile as he looked at the stranger more closely, "She is all we will ever need."

"She?"

The figure calmly walked towards them and took off her hat, uncovering the maiden face underneath. Her blue eyes were nearly as pale as the moon, a shade far paler than the those of the Inquisitor. A pair of surprisingly large, round spectacles nested in front of them.

"Greetings Inquisitor Stephus. I apologize for my late arrival." she solemnly spoke and bowed her head. "My name is Celes, Celes Steinholm. I have only just recently graduated from the Elgaud. I know my presence is disappointing but I shall do my best to make for whatever numbers you have been expecting."

"That's good so you can dispense with the false humility Celes." said the Inquisitor with a proud grin.

"Celes?" repeated Captain Strouf, "_The_ Celes? Celes the Lunar Prodigy?"

"Oh so you have heard of her? Well that saves much of the introductions." said Stephus, "I for one already know much. Your graduation is but a footnote in the list of your achievements Celes. What say we finally hang this abominable toymaker up his own strings?"

"Sir, you need not praise me so highly." Celes nonchalantly replied, "I only seek to enforce the will of Avacyn and protect our people, wherever they may be. Honors and personal satisfaction have nothing to do with what I have done."

"I'm sure they don't." said the Inquisitor with a smirk but there was a fire in his eyes now as he looked to address the crowd.

"Brothers! Sisters! The time is now!" he declared. "Long has your town been terrorized by the mere shadow of that tower! Tonight, you shall witness it razed to the ground at last and its master brought to Avacyn's justice! No more shall the hallowed bodies of our dearly departed be desecrated and cobbled like stolen goods!"

Like a hesitant drizzle turning into a downpour, the effect of the Inquisitor's speech grew increasingly potent. It began with the soldiers, obediently answering with salutes and shouts of affirmations. The peasants, rousing themselves into the angry mob that they were always meant to be.

"Ready your arms! Brighten your torches!" he shouted on before drawing his sword, "For now... WE MARCH TO THE TOWER!"

"RRRRAAAAAAHH!"

With the crowd now rallied and riled, the Inquisitor began something that resulted in more of a clumsy charge than an actual march.

Regardless, not even Captain Strouf minded as he and his men joined in. A hardened fury etched on their faces.

It was only Celes who remained nonchalant. Her feet matching their pace but at the same time, not forced enough to diminish the calmness in her strides. When they were but a short distance away from the gates of the manor, she briefly stopped and looked towards the moon. The dark clouds of the artificial storm now obscured its light.

Meanwhile, from within the house, the approaching shouts and angry cries did not go unheard.

In the central window of the second floor, therein lied a room that seemed more frequently used than the rest.

On a desk lied thick, ancient tomes. Some in piles others spread out. Dust was heavy on their leather-bound covers but some had pages freshly opened. In the distant corner on the desk's right side, a few shelves stood up against the wall. Along with more books, a few trinkets and scrolls could be seen. A small round tea table stood before them. Its occupants were more books and charts though instead of teapots and cups. On the wall on the very right side of the room was a single wardrobe colored in fading, sky blue paint. The silver knobs were grimy, regardless of the metal's value.

Placed closer on the desk's left side was a very large, four-poster bed made of ebony. Its curtains were emerald green. The sheets were of brownish red.

Speaking of which, there was in fact someone lying beneath those sheets. And now, that someone stirs at the sound of the approaching mob.

"Ugh... it's too early for this..."

The male voice groaned and its owner groggily pushed off the blanket, showing a young man underneath.

His hair was of a dirty blonde. Whether or not it was the natural color or as a result of what he does, none can tell. Not much could be said of his face either as he kept it behind a peculiar ivory mask. A grill could be seen where the mouth should have been while the eyes resembled more closely the masks used in masquerade balls. Upon both his ears was a strange and roughly circular apparatus. Small clamps extended from these and clutched onto the mask. In contrast, the rest of him wore a regular looking set of plain, grey pajamas.

The masked youth irritably placed two fingers to the temple area of his mask.

_Anya__, __get__ down__ here __please__._

There was a faint yet rapid beating of wings from behind his door and then, a sound that was like a brief rush of wind.

The knob gently creaked and turned as someone slowly opened the door. In the doorway stood a young maid. Her uniform was fairly simple: a white, frilly pinafore over a black skirt. The skirt in question however was very short, barely reaching halfway down her thighs. White lace lined its hem and matched the lace of her ivory, knee-high stockings. Similar lace can be found bordering the miniature sleeves that didn't conceal anything beyond her shoulders. Her frilled headband was much like any other in her profession. Her brown hair though was quite long and stylishly curled around the ends. In contrast, her eyes bore unnatural yellow irises.

"You called Lord Cain?" spoke her light, but otherwise toneless, voice.

"I'm not in the mood for guests. Ready the usual." spoke Cain.

"As you wish my lord. I have already taken the liberty of preparing the latest abomination." the maid calmly replied.

With a small curtsy, Anya turned and left. Suddenly, she made a small leap and her body burst into a black, smoky mass that rapidly shrunk into the form of a bat. The form solidified and the bat itself now took wing, flying down the dark hallway.

Cain wearily got out from his bed, his breath slightly wheezing through the grill of his mask. He lazily parted the heavy curtains. It was doubtful that these peasants were any brighter than the last bunch to know he was already observing them.

His blue eyes dwelt on them for a while until he noticed that one of them was indeed staring back.

Squinting his eyes somewhat, he managed to recognize the person as female. Her eyes in turn stared intently back at him. The irritable symbol of the Collar on her cloak appeared to shine somewhat brighter than the rest.

"Hmph... another one... " he grunted, "I hope at least _you_ have something new to show."

He moved away from the window and sleepily walked across the room to his wardrobe. With an effortless pull, the wardrobe's door swung limply upon its hinges. There was not much variety in the clothing that hung before him. They were all leather coats of dark violet with iron-gray buttons. The same went for the black pants that lay folded beneath them and the pale gray shirts in the drawers.

Outside the mob had soon reached the front gate, their shouts for Cain's head carrying over the yard of headstones.

"You may do the honors young Celes." said Stephus, the men around him eagerly making way for the young prodigy.

Celes gravely stared at the chain-locked gate before her. The crowd only raising the volume of their angry battle cries.

"Inquisitor..." she spoke as she reached for something within her cloak, "... as per the law of the Church, skaberen are desecrators. However, they are still brothers and sisters, lost and fallen-away they may be in their heretical pursuit to recreate life. Surely you know our obligation to extend them one last chance at redemption?"

At this, the Inquisitor raised his hand in a powerful yet stern manner. The cries died out instantly as everyone saw the now slightly displeased look on his face.

"Even so, I was in the hopes of foregoing such futility..." he grumbled.

"Hear, hear!" Strouf angrily joined in, "Don't waste your breath lass! The bastard has had more than his fair share of chances!"

"Even so, I assure you that this one shall truly be his last." she sternly answered and approached the gate.

"Skaberen!" she called, her voice now raised, "By order of the Arms of Avacyn, you have been charged with violating the sacred grafs and cruelly depriving the tranquility of the Blessed Sleep from the faithful buried within! However, not all is lost for you! Turn from your foul craft! Embrace your humanity once more within the Church! Repent of your sins and rejoin your brothers and sisters! What say you?"

There was no answer and the only sounds heard were the thundering of the clouds and the returned grumbling of the mob. A gust of wind coldly blew from the unusual direction of the house. Its whisper carried a haunting tone.

Suddenly, there was the thick crack of breaking earth. A woman screamed. Soldiers shouted and rallied orders.

Now from the midst of the graveyard, rotted hands sprouted like clawed weeds. Bits of the earth flew as they began bursting through the ground. Arms soon followed (with some having only bone to show for).

Soon the skeletal heads emerged as an army of ghouls crawled from the graves. Their faces mutilated in manners unique only to the style that decay is know for. Despite that, they were mix as interestingly diverse as the mob. The worn and ragged clothes betrayed persons of different professions. Some bore the humble attire of peasant folk. Others donned the fashions and finery of nobility (woebegone those now were).

"Very well." she said stoically and took out a large silver Collar, its neck long enough to serve as a handle.

Without warning either allies or the foes beyond, she reared the Collar back. The light it gave soon collected more than its own.

Before the ghouls could even begin their savage charge to the gate, she thrust the symbol forward. Its light was now in full glow.

The Collar-shaped ray that burst forth literally blasted the gate open and its intensity even lit some of the incoming ghouls on fire.

"What are you waiting for Inquisitor?" she muttered whilst here eyes were still on the reeling undead.

Stephus awkwardly shook himself from his awe and clumsily cried, "Ch-CHARGE!"

The mob barged in. Swords were drawn, pitchforks were raised, and torches flew. The ghouls though weren't fazed in the slightest and met them head-on. Stephus drew his longsword and soon took his place leading the assault. With both hands, he cleanly cut through countless, rotting waists whilst Strouf smashed those that still moved with his massive warhammer. Meanwhile, Celes proved herself quicker than her appearance and kept appearing right between them all. Her Collar continued to shine and unleashed waves of holy light to the point that smoke now began rising from it.

Soon it became evident that victory was theirs. All that was left of the skaberen's defenses were either running about, covered in flames or barely crawling on their arms. Finally, Celes raised her Collar up high. The light shone its brightest ever as she gave one last thrust.

The Collar shattered and beams of light pierced from it and through the hearts of the remaining zombies. The walking corpses shrieked and moaned as they combusted into dust.

"The path is clear! To the manor!" roared Stephus and the fanatic mob eagerly followed him across the remaining half of the graveyard.

Celes took only one look at the corpses around her however, when suddenly she shouted for the first time, "Wait! Fall ba-!"

Horrified shrieks quickly stifled her command. More hands had suddenly sprouted from graves thought turned. And worse, these arms now clutched many a leg and thigh of living flesh. The hungry dead which rose forth were quick to sink in their putrid teeth.

Stephus got lucky, like most Inquisitors apparently, and even somersaulted backwards just to avoid the arms that nearly grabbed him. Strouf wasn't as fortunate and barely managed to escape through mere brute strength alone. His legs and even arms now bled heavily from bites. Less fortunate still were half their forces as they fell prey to more undead rising beneath them.

"Avacyn save us... how many of our dead has that fiend truly buried here!" Stephus cursed. It did not help that the sight of the corpses grew even more in diversity. His wrath was further kindled to see some bearing the armor of inquisitors, cathars, and even priests. The ravaged mark of Avacyn upon them seemed only to serve the purpose of mockery.

"There's enough ghouls here to fill half the grafs of Havengul!" Strouf swore.

"I noticed something was off the moment I saw these graves." explained Celes as they all slowly backed away. In a sickening twist of irony and fortune, the ghouls were still too busy slaughtering those they had caught. "For a skaberen, he seems rather skilled at ghoulcalling."

"Truth be told, I've heard rumors but these were so sensational, even the skaberen underground of the Erdwal dismissed them as fish wives' tales." said Stephus, "However, it was said that this 'Toymaker' has in fact mastered both of the foul schools of necromancy! First, he gathers bodies and raises them into an unhallowed army. And once he's had his fun sending that army on a suicide mission of massacre, he sends his servants to recover what's left..."

"... then stitch the pieces together into skaab abominations!" growled Strouf, "Though to be frank sir, I think these ghouls are trouble enou-!"

There was a loud bang and all the survivors turned their eyes back in the direction of the manor. Three windows away on either side of the house, there was in fact a cellar door underneath. However, these were both withered and covered with the moss of ages that their blackened color made it difficult to spot in the dark.

Now they were both open. The eerie electric blue light now also shone from inside their openings. The sound of deeper yet more unified groaning heralded the arrival of the undead army's more resilient half.

They climbed out in two ordered rows. In comparison, the skaab grunts that now skulked out made the ghouls almost appear like citizenry. Whereas the ghouls wore more or less the same attire they wore in life, the skaabs all had the uniform lack of any clothing aside from either torn pants or a tattered loincloth (and the occasional worn boots). Each of their faces was a twisted patchwork of several others stitched together. One had stitches across its forehead while another had stitches holding its jaws. Their muscles, thicker and bulkier as they were, still weren't any less lopsided (given that they were taken from different bodies). Where parts weren't tied by wire or string, a sturdy copper plate or band was in place. Silvery blue runes could be seen inscribed on each of them. Some even still had metal stubs on their bodies from which sparks would fly. The way they walked was arguably slower and clumsier than the ghouls but they made up for it with the single-minded direction they moved in.

That direction being towards the survivors.

"What now Inquisitor?" asked Strouf, unease now hinted in his voice. "Retreat?"

"Out of the question!" barked Stephus, "I have heard that one Geralf has already planned a siege on our beloved Thraben. We cannot allow this Toymaker following up on his schemes!"

Immediately, he raised his sword and declared boldly in front of the approaching horde, "Steady your hearts brothers and sisters! Let the deaths of our fellows not be in vain! Avacyn is still with us! Fill your hearts with faith and we shall be spared from evil!"

As he said this, the remaining mob united in such a ferverent cheer that it was almost a chorus. An ethereal dome of blue swirled about the group and the ghouls who were once advancing, body pieces in hand, now fled as a divinely inspired terror supplanted the necromantic will governing their minds. The skaabs too groaned somewhat painfully. Their bulging arms raised to shield their faces.

"We make our stand HERE!" he roared and rushed forward. Those armed with the weapons of the fray followed bravely with their own battle cries. The situation soon reversed once more against the undead's favor. Pitchforks skewered their backs. Cleavers and axes lopped off arms. Spears and swords ran through their chests.

"Archers!" Celes commanded from the back and the bowmen of their militia promptly knocked their arrows.

"Fire!"

The archers aimed high and their strings sang, heralding the rain of wood tipped with blessed steel. Swordsmen carefully retreated behind those with pitchforks and spears. The length of their weapons easily allowed the forcing back of the undead. Even the most heavily muscled of the skaabs soon fell back to the combined force of their attacks. Some had even thrown the melee weapons in hand for good measure.

Watching this all was the maid Anya. A dark window in the lighthouse's midsection facilitated her survey of the battle without being seen.

The only thing that would give her away was if one soul would risk taking his or her eyes off the battle in front and gaze further upwards. The lightning strikes from above would even aid in revealing her as they apparently channeled down to what was behind her. Its light illuminated her form ever so briefly.

And yet, none did such a thing and therefore, she turned away both seemingly bored yet satisfied that she wasn't seen.

"Hurry up Ikor, a battle like this is easily won but Lord Cain wishes it over soon. Don't make him wait." she glumly spoke.

Before her was an entire laboratory array. Four tables stood in a cross-like arrangement, each retrofitted with operating equipment. Their needles, drills, and scalpels all bore the classic, grisly stains of a mad scientist's tools.

For further indication of to whom this lab belonged, one need only look to the occupants of these tables.

Their torsos clearly belonged to men, but nailed below the waist were the hinds of a clearly different species. Some still held rot whilst others were all bone. Either way, they were all somewhat reptilian given the lengthy, clawed feet. A whip-like tailbone could be seen in-between the legs. For arms, they had the winged limbs resembling some large specimen of bat. The flaps were disturbing patchworks of differently shaded skins sewn together. Goodness knows from what flesh each patch was originally peeled from. The trend of mixed body parts continued all the way up to their heads. Large bird-like skulls were bound to the base of where each torso's neck would have been. Whether they belonged to griffins or in fact some sort of flying reptile, Anya couldn't tell... nor could care.

"Only mashter commands me! Not you rat-leech!" a voice hissed from somewhere. In the center of the laboratory and towering all the way to the top stood a large gestalt of cogs, pipes, chains, and knobs. There were some switches too, along with a very large containment tank inscribed with a ring of runes around the middle. And like how a large stone would be set to such a ring, there was a small, glass porthole in the center where most, if not all, the electrical light blasted forth from.

An unusually lumpy shadow jumped from the darkness above this generator just as another surge ran down from the top of the lighthouse and erratically along its metal mass.

It appeared to have a beak of its own at first but in fact, it was a pointed mask that curved downwards. Well... at least it functioned like a mask despite looking more like someone took a bent cage and welded it to its face.

A heavy, torn assortment of rags was its only attire. It was particularly bulgy on one side. The other side though revealed a swollen arm covered in sickly red sores.

"Know your place..." it hissed, revealing itself as the owner of the voice.

"And I would appreciate that you remember yours Ikor..." growled Cain's voice.

Ikor gasped and turned, nearly backing into one of the tables from surprise.

"M-mashter!" Ikor wheezed, wincing as he felt his deformed back make contact with one of the table's cobbled occupants. Cain was now standing on a round platform engraved with runes and strangely attached to the wall by an assembly of gears. His attire of shirt, coat, and boots was now fully donned.

"Pleashe forgive me Mashter," he added, almost going down on his knees. "I only wanted to give you the honor of-"

"Enough." he irritably dismissed, "Raise the drakes."

Ikor made a gurgled gulp and slowly nodded. He shambled towards the wall left of the electrical tank. There an assortment of gears attached to a hand crank awaited him. A single, rusty-looking knife switch was bolted to the wall above.

With his inflamed hand, he turned the crank in slow but strong rotations. The arrangement of gears turned and the cogs ground. The sound of even greater machinery creaking and clanking echoed from somewhere below the laboratory.

Behind Ikor, the four tables shook before gradually elevating higher and higher. A supporting pillar beneath each of them soon grew to towering heights. At some point, they reached a level with four tall windows. Each table in fact was aligned with one and as they neared, they began to open.

There was a resounding crunch and Ikor could no longer wind the crank further.

Outside, the battle continued to rage and more undead fell to the rain of arrows and periodic thrusts of poled arms.

Ikor took a deep breath as he grasped the switch's handle. "The drakes have been raished mashter..." he announced. Yet whilst he labored, Cain had already joined Anya in overseeing the battle below.

"The exoskeleton has already been grafted." Anya spoke. "The abomination is already in the final stages of armoring."

"Well then let's just thin out the number of test subjects and get this over with... I've seen enough and have much more pressing matters at hand." he grumbled before commanding to the back, "Ikor! Pull the switch."

"Yeeeeesh mashter!" cried the minion and promptly slammed said switch downwards. The resulting feedback obviously incited a screech of electrified agony from its holder.

The current though did not stop there as the power accumulating in the tank surged upwards to where the four raised tables were. A thin antenna was in fact placed right above them. The tips of their sphere-pointed ends aimed towards the chest cavity of each stitched drake.

The lightning coursed in dazzling blue arcs that shot from the antenna and right into the skaabs.

A loud screech announced each birth of new unlife as the drakes arched and writhed their stiffened necks. Their wings soon followed and began to dangerously flay about. Without even glancing up to them, Cain placed his fingers again to his temple. His eyes suddenly glowing blue and signaling to some below with their brightness.

"Up there!"

"It's him!"

"Toymaker!"

Celes too finally looked up but this would be the second time the two gazed upon another. The expression on her face was stoic yet somewhat challenging. Her hand reached into her cloak and drew out a another glowing, sacramental Collar. Almost immediately, the comrades around her began exhibiting a similar glow. An increase in speed, swiftness, and vigor spoke for its effect.

"The blasphemer now shows himself at last!" roared Stephus, furiously jabbing his sword in Cain's direction before swinging around to behead an incoming skaab.

Unknown to all, the skaab drakes had also began shining blue light from within their hollow sockets. Soon, the rest of the remaining skaabs below began emulating this trait. Whatever space or flesh their eyeballs previously occupied was now consumed in alien ether.

_Go__._

The lightning stopped. The drakes ceased writhing. Where they were now seconds in danger of falling from their tables, they now sat up almost like machines. Their legs carefully stepped on the table as footing and stood up. Their wings spread out gracefully before they each turned and made a sudden dive through the windows.

"Draaaaaaaaaaaakes!" cried one of the soldiers as the skaab drakes screeched and dove towards the militia. Some were snatched out right into air while others were fatally clipped by beaks serrated by decay.

Another surprise came from the skaabs below as their moves became more martial and surprisingly calculated. One knocked out a blade purely with the thick, rotten flesh of its arm before using both to pick up its screaming owner and hurling it to the stunned crowd. Another allowed the spears to stick in its gut so as to wrench them away (or at least snap their handles). Needless to say many deaths soon followed as it barreled towards them with all those sharp, broken shafts sticking out. Some had even resorted to hurling the still remaining ghouls by the body. In turn, the hungry unhallowed fell upon their hapless prey with open arms (and mouths). The shrieks in the night air soon raised their volume.

For the first time, Celes' face expressed more clear emotion. Her brow furrowed coldly and she raised her Collar even higher. Its light and its position almost appeared like the break of day on the horizon.

The survivors had only gazed upon it briefly before they felt an even greater strength well up from within. For each bite and each blow, a forceful spark would repel it from their now brilliantly luminous bodies.

Still, their greatest casualties were yet to follow.

From inside the lighthouse, an unearthly roar sounded from its deepest bowels. Rather unusual that it didn't reach all the way outside the windows.

"It's ready." said Anya, "Shall I release it Lord Cain?"

"Not yet." he answered as he noticed this last minute shift in power, "Dispense the oil."

Anya stared at him briefly before asking, "Are we beginning the next experiment ahead of schedule?"

"Well you did say that the oil was already prepared in case I wish to push through at an earlier date." he replied. "Now I say why not? It would make this farce more amusing."

"Understood."

The maid left the window and took care to watch her step. Her heeled shoes successfully dug in on an electrically singed mass that was the half-dead Ikor. Directly behind the tank was a complex panel of levers. Stamped above each of them was a rune inlaid with moonlight silver, each with a rather beautiful effect of glowing from the constant reflection of the lightning all around them.

Anya apparently understood what each rune meant for she only reached for one, forcefully pulled it down, and walked back to the window (stepping on Ikor again in the process). Down below, several shingles of the mansion roof had actually slid down to reveal wide shafts. Pouring was a glistening substance that indeed bore the black shade of oil. However, it seemed thicker, heavier and perhaps almost alive as it oozed out of the shafts, trickled down the roof before flooding down into the ground below.

"What in devils is this?" asked a bewildered Stephus. His cunning eyes looked up to where Cain continued to coldly observe.

"You think to frighten us with this new, foul craft Toymaker!" he shouted, "Behold!" He spread his arms wide, showing off the golden light his body and that of others shone. "We carry within our hearts the very light of day! Avacyn still lives within us!" he cried and all those survivors joined with him.

"Inquisitor..." Celes whispered as she started backing away, "Indeed, we are now invulnerable with the archangel's blessing... but something tells me that what we see is not something we'd want on ourselves..."

Bold as he was, Stephus could not help but notice the unease in her voice and was compelled towards caution. With a simple step back, everyone got the message and promptly began a slow retreat. The fury in all their eyes though showed only an intention to strike when they were beyond the range of the black filth.

_You__ really __think__ it__'__s __that __simple__?_ Cain thought, the light in his eyes almost flickered as he rolled them. In a sudden movement however, he rigidly raised his hand, palm facing upwards, as if beseeching the oil. By now, overflowing puddles of it had accumulated and the shafts slowly closed, indicating depletion of stores.

The oil splashed and the retreat of the diminished militia slightly quickened as the black substance gradually began to animate with increased intensity.

They braced themselves as it reshaped into tendrils and lashed out.

Much to their shock, they didn't notice that the skaabs had actually ceased to pursue them and were standing still. There eyes still remained glowing even as the oil had now begun lathering itself over their bodies. It seeped into socket openings, loose stitches, along with the typical entrances of eyes, ears, and mouths.

The puddles eventually emptied as the oil apparently filled every cavity within. The excesses dripped disgustingly out of their eyes like inky tears, their mouths like black dribble. All the way down it trickled to their thick fingertips.

It took only a mere minute for everyone to register what this grisly process entailed.

For Cain, it was all the time in the world.

"SPEARS!" Celes commanded in full volume as skaabs charged in unison. Whatever few spear-men remained promptly lunged their weapons. Alas, the resulting punctures only released torrents of the black oil onto stunned faces.

These same faces immediately lost their golden glow, replaced with a pallid complexion. The dark poison literally seeped into their skin, blackening their veins, and even the pupils of their eyes turned deathly white. Some suffered even worse, with patches of their skin spontaneously solidifying into a unidentifed metal texture. The ghouls no longer even paid attention as they choose to scavenge the stiffened remains. Archers desperately shot their quivers empty yet it only gave more holes from which the skaabs expectorated their newly-acquired venom. Their toll has again gained an exponential rise.

Furious at more sudden deaths, Strouf finally went on a berserk rage, waving his warhammer side-to-side. Any ghoul that neared him was smashed so hard, bones and guts flew. At last, he was upon an enormous skaab. With a barbaric roar, he rammed his thick, plated shoulder into its chest. Some oil squirted and splashed onto his face but his strength and radiance only persisted.

The hammer swung right, swung left. The latter blow cleanly knocking the skaab's disfigured skull off the stitches binding its neck. A fountain of oil burst forth from the stump and rained on Strouf.

"ARRRRGGHHH!" he shouted on as he wildly wiped off the muck. His hammer reared its farthest yet. The weapon struck the flailing skaab's form with such an explosive blast, the metal grafts around its waist severely dented. The force launched the monstrosity back to the feet of the manor with the oil literally flying out of it.

The veteran cathar heaved as he took a few steps back. His eyes however, continue to eye any approaching ghouls with intimidating sharpness.

Cain watched this small skirmish and pulled out a pocket watch from inside his coat. His glowing eyes reflected upon its glass face.

"Anya, activate the leyline." he quietly ordered.

This time the maid bowed with no hesitation and went to the back to pull another lever. More blue light sprang forth, this time encircling the base of the manorr. Its smooth ethereal appearance made it unique in comparison to the wild and erratic lightning storm.

After a few glances here and there, Strouf reverted his eyes back to the corpse of the skaab he just vaulted. Its body had begun twitching suspiciously. At first, it appeared to be the final throes preceding a return to the Blessed Sleep where it should have always been. However, blue arcs that were all too unique to skaberen alchemy had begun running across its leathery skin. Certain metal ports were now emitting bluish light (with some originating from the runes inscribed on them).

Wide-eyed he stared as the headless monster rose again, perhaps stronger than ever with all the crackling power it pulsed.

The worst though escaped Strouf's eyes until it once again sprung up wildly and flowed back faster into its body.

It had stifled the light but relentlessly, the skaab marched back to Strouf.

It didn't take more than that to have him charging again, the light of his form still shining gloriously.

Then enter the two skaabs that were charging from either side to block him.

The resulting collision not only bathed Strouf in more infectious oil, but it could apparently vanquish the armor of the body as well as the soul. His tricorne flew off from his head along with the melted and mutilated pieces of his plate and mail.

Whatever was left, he tore off in a wild rage. All that was left now was his bulging muscular form. The mark of Avacyn shining blindly, tattooed onto his bare chest. His arms covered in luminous, holy runes.

"Avacyn! May you grant me the Blessed Sleep, for I'll be having it after these bastards!" he roared.

Noble. Courageous. Plenty other similar words could have described what transpired next.

It was also brief.

The effects of the oil soon grew evident. His light finally faded. His tattoos became mere markings of faded ink. His head easily submitted to the right uppercut the middle skaab threw him. His hammer wrenched away by the one on his left during this momentary stun. The remaining one grabbed him bodily as his dizzied spun turned his back on it. Its large arm slammed over his face.

The following crack of a twisted neck (and most likely spine) almost echoed to all those who remained alive.

That being, only Celes and Stephus.

"STROUF!" cried the Inquisitor as the dead cathar's large yet pale body was thrown back to the base of the manor. There the ghouls were now feasting on the dead and dying. Celes even began to look mournful and could only glare back at Cain.

The young skaberen in turn, simply pocketed his watch and turned to his maid.

"Loose the abomination." he finally said.

Anya went back to the rear for and pulled a lever for the third time.

The second roar reached new, screeching heights and this time it was loud enough to reach the ears of the two survivors.

"The desecrator has more devilry to spare?" began Stephus, his nimbleness and knowledge of skaab movement being the deciding factor of his survival. "Well then come what may! These monsters shall be put to rest soon before it shows its face!"

Oddly enough, he needn't bother.

As soon as the roar died down, all that was living dead, unhallowed and stitched, began a sluggisg retreat back to their origins. The ghouls in particular now bore the uncanny blue light in their eyes as well.

However, before Stephus could take a step to advance, the ground shuddered. Again, he tried only for a rise in magnitude to unsettle his footing. On his third attempt, the shudders became a choir of violent quakes.

In a last moment of reflex, the two Avacynians leaped back as a large drill erupted from where they stood. Drops of oil flickered from it and inevitably landed upon each of them.

Stephus actually gave a small cry of pain as it struck his face. The way he clutched his face was so wild and aggravated that even from Cain's height, he could tell the poison was at last doing its work on the Inquisitor. To his mild surprise, he saw that Celes had been simply pedaling back over the ground. The shadow of her tricorne had always made it difficult to glimpse her face when she was not looking at him.

As to what she was fleeing, it was clear that the drill had not yet ceased its function and had begun leaning dangerously towards their direction.

Then, it stopped but only when something else had burst underneath its base. The emerging form was something neither of them have ever seen.

It resembled neither skaab nor ghoul. The body was wide and squat, made of soiled steel. The style of its plate was curved, alien, and unlike any skabaren contraption Stephus has ever beheld in his years of serving the Church. The body was slightly curved and in the center, in a long, oval compartment, was a trap jaw. The long teeth suited its equally lengthy mouth and were just as pointed.

The drill in fact formed most of its right arm with a rough, steel tube running from the elbow to somewhere behind the mass forming its mouth. Its short legs were bird-like, as was the claw on its long left arm.

The mechanical horror then began crawling out of its hole. More traces of oil trickled from some of the vents it had around its chest. Plenty more could be seen running down the piths of its tunnel.

Celes snapped her head to where Stephus struggled to get up, despite the agony of the poison that was now scarring his face. The monster stood up further upright, a deep metallic groaning echoing from somewhere within.

Bolting, she had just whipped out her Collar in time before the creature could snare Stephus within its grasp. The Collar unleashed a rebuking blast, shaped again in its own likeness. The bright light formed an identical mark squarely in the creature's center.

Fire burst from its back and the drill stopped spinning. Steel groaned and it took all of Celes' strength to haul Stephus away before it crashed tremendously, inches before their feet.

"Sir, we must retreat." she urgently whispered as the man continued to grunt and groan painfully.

"Ngrn-NO!" he finally spoke through gritted teeth, "Many have already fallen but the tower still stands! It must fall today!"

"There's nothing we can do! We must return and request more aid!" Celes insisted.

"The Church has no more aid to spare." Stephus spoke, a surprising hint of sorrow now evident in his voice, "We are indeed all that's left of its sacred protection over this region of Nephalia... If the rumors are true, then the best we can do is prevent this Toymaker from aiding Geralf. The same man has declared the greatest stroke to fall against Thraben."

He stood up, leaning against his sword for support. His hand's departure revealing the horrendous result of the poison's touch. His face had almost gone skeletal but with steel flesh, still clinging his jaws.

"Come!" he declared, raising his sword, "Come before the shock of his creation's fall has ebbed and he recalls his army! Let us storm this manor together!"

Again he roared his battle cry and charged. The strengthening light was no longer there and he nearly looked no differently from the ghouls. His spirit however, fights on.

"Let it be known, that we had all at least died martyrs! Avacyn! THY WILL BE DO-!"

**CRASH****!**

Something even larger than the previous monstrosity lunged out from the tunnel and the impact knocked Stephus again off his feet.

There was a pitiful scream and Celes gasped as the Inquisitor was engulfed from view by a massive bulk. The grotesque sounds of crunching bones and minced flesh were the only sounds that followed.

The creature turned and Celes soon recognized it as it displayed itself in full view of the moonlight.

At first she thought it was a large shadow but realized that the darkness was in fact the black color of its armor. The monster was heavily plated with it, as if readied for war. Stranger still were the streaks of golden light, orbiting it like weak, shooting stars.

Still, she knew exactly what creature was underneath this alien gear. From various reports she had read in the archives, another skaberen by the name of Ludevic conducted a series of secret alchemy experiments with a rare breed of Nephalian reptile as test subjects. The result was a mutant, unstoppable monstrosity that destroyed the lab in which he was performing the experiment (and obviously devouring all the unfortunate souls participating). Whether Ludevic himself was among the casualties, there was no evidence. But soon after, few other skaberen had somehow acquired the necessary information from the lab's remains to perfectly replicate the experiment and now the Erdwal underground has witnessed rising demand for these abominations. Celes herself was among the select group of Elgaud students who were forced to face one when it had escaped into their sacred grounds in Havengul.

There was something slightly more peculiar about this one though and it was not the armor it bore.

The last abomination she had fought had bluish, violet scales with patches of green. This one had a noticeably paler complexion and milkier eyes. It seemed to have more spikes on its back as well and she could've sworn some had their tips cracked off and were now giving off smoke. The two horns on its head were longer too, extending further to the back and giving off a sharp, bladed gleam.

As it crouched low and advanced hungrily towards her, she noticed that the back was completely bare and only the main body was armored. She realized that it was only unnoticed at first because the back was just as metallic as its armor and now she noticed that the arms as well bore signs of this inorganic exoskeleton.

Now all it took was the sight of it drooling that same hideous oil to fully grasp what had been done to this creature.

It was too late for her to retreat now. She was the only one left and this terrible yet pitiful beast demonstrated the full extent of this Toymaker's evil.

The abomination let out a guttural roar, baring its its spindly teeth and charged towards her. Given its size, it was easy to dodge (at least dodge well enough for her to deal the same countering blast that devastated the previous monster).

She rolled to the left and reared her Collar. Her following thrust was in full force and its shaped blast collided with the monster's side.

Much to her shock, no mark formed. There was only a deafening clang and the creature merely turned its head to send a menacing glare. The smoke from its back was now also rising from between its jaws and nostrils.

It took Celes only a split second to shield herself before the creature let loose a blinding cloud of oil black smoke. The surprise of this new weapon and its thick, battering force blew off her hat while the poisoned air whipped her face. The same face now struggled helplessly with a premature hold of breath that soon gave away. The smog eagerly forced itself wild into her lungs.

When it stopped, she fell on her rear. Her coughs painful and suffocating. Cain continued to observe, waiting for the inevitable sight that had always concluded these Avacynian comedies.

Celes stood up again. Her face unblemished. It seemed it was all just thick smoke after all, at least for her. Her breath though, remained labored.

"What...?"

"Master... she seems unaffected by the contagion."

Cain turned from the window and grimly strode to the platform. Its runes all lit up at the touch of his steps.

"You know what to do."

Anya obediently nodded and watched her master's back until it soon lowered out of sight. Another white flash signaled her attention back to the skirmish.

Celes was now entirely out of breath and her eyes now betrayed the full emotion of bewilderment. At her feet were the pieces of the second Collar that had broken that night. She had poured all her faith into summoning power from the moon itself to smite this monstrous horror. The beam of light pierced through clouds but not through the hide of dark, otherworldly steel.

The creature roared once again and now stood on twos. Its stance appeared unstable but the legs were still thick and strong enough to propel the body for a brutal swipe.

Celes closed her eyes, bracing for the pain of broken bones, the taste of blood to erupt in her mouth, and perhaps the sensation of flying as her body is flung all the way past the seaside cliffs then into the cold waters below.

Not one of that came.

There was only silence. Stillness. The return of the crackling thunder and the flash of lightning tempting her eyes to open.

When they did, they beheld the creature, its eyes now glowing blue. Its savagery completely absent as it towered a mere five feet away from her with its claw still raised. And were it not for its breathing, she'd have confused with it with a taxidermy specimen, mounted as a trophy in the Elgaud's hall of fame.

Almost rigidly, the creature lowered its claw and did an above-face to the hole as it were a toy soldier. The ground slightly shook as it dropped back on all fours and casually crawled back inside.

Celes remained rooted for a few seconds so as to make heads or tails of what just transpired. Once those seconds passed, her eyes went stern and she meant to firmly but slowly follow it down.

Now if only the hand that gagged her from behind was of the same mind.

The girl struggled instantly from the sudden pressure and the iron strength of her captor. The feeling of something soft pressing against her back quickly followed.

Whatever held her in place felt human enough and she saw that it was hand that clamped itself over her mouth. There was a certain coldness to it though which compelled her to struggle even harder, fearing that she knew who's grasp she was in. She tried to pry it off with her hands but it only held her more closely and in even more sensuous manner. The hand that held her face shifted her head a bit backwards, exposing the skin of her neck.

She felt a mild prick around the base and the feeling of something flowing into the spot. By the time it all abated, her mind felt noxiously heavy, her eyelids closed, and the last thing she felt was the hard earth on her shoulder as she fell on her side.

Anya stared morosely at the young girl's prone form. A fully spent syringe was held up in one hand. Staring at the carnage around her, she gave a bored sigh and said, "It seems I'll be doing the garden again today." Pocketing the syringe, she bent over and hauled Celes over her shoulder. The storm above continued to rage on.

It would be several weeks before Celes would wake again.

On one day of those weeks, Cain was observing his newly obtained specimen. Her body was now placed within a large glass tube. Its top and bottom rimmed with runes and attached to ceiling and floor respectively. Another combination of pipes, cogs, and gears served as the attachments.

The liquid suspending her was of luminous teal. Meanwhile a small, transparent mask was placed over her mouth and had two, thin tubes running to the top. Her clothes were irrelevant to his objective and he had them promptly removed. The brightness and clarity of the liquid made an accurate display of her bare body's every detail.

"My, and you were so insistent that you never had time for things like this." the smug voice of a female spoke.

Cain groaned but did not turn around to the source behind him.

"It looks like Ikor makes for a very poor doorman." he coolly replied.

"No, but I'm sure he'll serve a better job as your new doormat." the voice replied.

"And Anya?"

"Oh just the usual, enjoying some well deserved time off with my familiars. I'll soon be joining them myself. Why not come along?" she said, "Your recent acquisition would indicate that you'd very much like to, wouldn't you think?"

"I already told you Rachel. I am sincerely NOT interested." Cain snapped.

"Is that so?" Rachel answered, "My eyes tell me otherwise. Unless of course, the only alternative explanation would mean me drawing similarities between what you're doing and what your father has done?"

"Don't you dare compare me to my father!" he snarled but otherwise his body didn't budge and remained composed, "What I'm doing is nothing like that. I'm simply analyzing and have no intention of turning this girl into a mindless doll. She's not even a corpse yet for one thing."

"Even so," the voice playfully argued, "Your new knowledge, power, and methodology have become too similar to disregard. You even don a mask yourself now."

"And need I mention," she added, "that you chose to change your own name and not that which you shared with him, am I right... Cain Clover?"

000

**Author's Note: **Well, there ya have it. The first sign of a crossover and if you somehow didn't realize who these last two characters are, they're from the game _BlazBlue_but if you're thinking that there must be some major twisting of them on my part, then I'm guilty as charged. I won't divulge everything now though but as I said before, these are just some of the ideas I got running about in my head.


	2. Andre's Story: Fire, Fear, and Freedom

**Author's Note:** Okay, chapter two here features a Planeswalker that's more of an OC. He's not drawn from any particular anime/manga character. He does however reference another series in here. Also, take note that the world he's in is special because it'll be the home plane of various other OCs I've got up in my head.

000

Wind.

It blew gently but without ceasing across the weathered tip of the rock spire. On one side, there was a unique slope which curved outwards. It was shaped in such a way that one need only a single step and they'd risk sliding down all the way, straight down the rough, vertical plummet along its sides.

And apparently, there was one who was currently challenging this risk.

His short hair was brown, save for the streak of red that traveled over the right side of his head. In contrast, his eyes were of a green so bright that they were almost luminous.

He faced against the wind, letting its cool breath ruffle his hair and flow into his baggy clothes. Despite the heat of the bright sun and the thickness of his red, hooded jersey, the air was cool enough to balance against any sweaty discomfort. He could even feel it flowing through his patched sleeves and ragged cargoes.

Perhaps the only article of clothing that the wind couldn't sway were the strange shoes on his feet.

They were colored deep brown with each bound by three straps instead of laces. In contrast, a medieval pattern of pale gold was drawn across each of them. Finally, attached underneath the soles and elevating him somewhat were a pair of wheels. One beneath the front, the other beneath the heel. A small, steel frame held them aligned them aournd the middle whilst another gold pattern was inscribed in a ring outside each axis.

It was nigh miraculous that the young man managed to stay rooted on his spot with such footwear. The terrain was rocky and uneven. There was now stable foothold, much less for wheeled feet! The slightest budge could easily send him slipping to a lethal plunge.

And yet, budge he didn't.

On the contrary, he jumped.

As he did, his shoes were ignited by a burning aura of orange. Its shape was akin to a fire in the face of a gale. Its tongues whipped behind his feet as the wheels crashed and rolled blindly against the crags. Left and right he widely went, skating excitedly down the slope. The wind blowing against his face increased in velocity.

Upon reaching the curve before the drop, he bent even further and then ultimately kicked off into a headfirst dive.

Below laid a thick forest, though no amount of leafy canopy was going to break his fall. Still, he continued to dive. He had even stuck his legs out so as the wheels on his feet would occasionally roll against the rock's vertical surface.

Barely halfway down however, he shifted his center of gravity again. His neck craned upwards but at the exact moment, more fiery flashes burst from his body.

Two came from distinct points on his shoulder blades. Few more raged from both sides of his head, right above his ears. His green eyes grew even brighter.

The ones on his head vanished to reveal two emerald horns while small patches of scales dotted near his cheeks. The flames on his back shaped into leathery wings but then dispersed. In their place was an actual pair, covered in green scales, spread out to catch the wind.

Indeed the wind was caught. His body was accordingly adjusted and soon he was flying. His eyes took in the vast ocean of trees as it expanded all the way to the horizon. And yet, what they truly sought was the blue world just above the green line.

With a mighty beat of his new wings, he felt the air whoosh behind him as his gaze soon raised up into the nearly cloudless sky.

The wind in his face. A jungle below. Boundless skies above.

There was no freedom like flying over a tropical paradise.

_Andre_

"Andre!"

The young man opened his eyes. Before him the white, flat screen of a Mac stood on its fat, domed base. His hands rested lazily on the equally flat keyboard.

The voice's owner stood behind the screen, in front of his brown desk. She was a woman of a distinguishably older age. Her black bun and navy blue suit was in direct contrast to the young man's street wear. One would think him a student and her the teacher were it not for their surroundings.

Similar desks were neatly placed along either side of the room. They were all empty save for Andre's. He knew why, looking to a window on his left that had its plastic blinds lifted. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was sinking between the neighboring skyscrapers. His work mates were already spending their last breaks lounging about in the floor below until shift was over.

He looked at the woman in the face. She appeared concerned enough. She held a pen and notepad in her hands but it was clear they weren't going to be used at the moment.

"Yes Miss Loren?" he drowsily replied. He took off his glasses and rubbed his brown eyes.

"Nothing much. Are you on break already?" she replied.

"Yeah. Till end of shift." he answered, ruggedly scratching his plain brown hair.

"Yeah, uh, about that." she began, a slight of unease now in her voice, "I know you just really prefer sitting here but Dan's coming down here."

Andre put his glasses back on and raised a brow. "I thought he said he didn't care about what we do at our desks so long as our job's done?" he said.

"Yeah I know. _He_ said that. _I_ have no problem. It's just that, well... he's got a new client with him right now and..." she explained, "...he's... kind of an ass."

"Say no more." he mumbled as he pulled a large drawer at the bottom right side of his deck. Snuggled inside was small, muddy brown backpack.

"No seriously, he's like a villain straight out of a bad soap opera. Wants everyone in suits and looking all corporate high-class." she said, wearily rubbing her temples while Andre started packing the many novels, comic books, and magazines he used to decorate his work space.

"Dan says this guy's our biggest shot but even he says, uh, what was it... 'a necessary-'"

"Evil." Andre finished for her.

"Right." she said with a sigh, "Well the good news is he also says he'll make sure this is the first and last time the guy's going into this building. Don't worry about having to disappear too early... or to wear a suit from now on."

"Mm."

As soon as he finished and was just a few clicks away from shutting down his computer, Loren headed out of the office.

"Dan and I decided to 'distract' him for you all so I'll be heading back up." she said, "Don't take too long punching out all right?"

_Relax ma'am,_ Andre thought as his computer clock struck five and he signed out in a flourish of typing, _disappearing's something I don't even need to try doing. I just do._

Neither was it something he felt particularly happy to declare, mentally or otherwise. Still, truth was truth.

He exited the office and found himself in a hallway with three elevators along the left side. He didn't even notice what floor the others were one until he pressed the down button.

"Aw shit..." he cursed under his breath when he saw one coming down from the top. That one obviously had the occupant Loren did not want him to meet. The other two were too far down to make it in time. He wouldn't even dare make a break for the fire exit.

"Damn... I might as well..." he muttered, continuing to stare at the number before sleepily closing his eyes.

It took all of Loren's mental effort to keep her eyes on either her notepad or on what floor they were on and not what lay between.

That being her boss and his new client.

"When I heard that you had expanded another floor down, I realized that you were finally taking your business seriously." he spoke, his voice thickly accented. His face had a thick, square jaw but was horribly wrinkly. His hair, gray as it was, seemed to bristle in his military crew-cut.

"Haha... well, I've really been serious from the start. It just takes a while for everything else to follow." chuckled her boss, Dan. His suit probably made the poor man look even plainer than he already did.

The elevator beeped, announcing their arrival on the floor she had just previously visited. Her mind raced to the point of praying that Andre managed to get out of there.

The steel doors slid apart to an empty hallway. The two men casually walked out, discussing further business plans. Loren stepped out with a mildly surprised look, double checking around for any trace of Andre.

"Loren!"

She jumped and walked as hurriedly as her high heels allowed.

Andre took in a deep breath as he sat upon the top of the rock spire. A small smiled formed on his face as he took off his glasses. His brown eyes brightened into green. The wind ruffled his hair as a red streak swiftly formed across one side.

Taking off his backpack, he broke into a run and jumped. His wings sprouted and he once again flew off to freedom.

He turned sharply to the right, the wind whistling beautifully in his ears as he circled around the spire. Cocking his head, his eyes apparently began to scan the spire's surface. Halfway down, he spotted his objective: a small, hollow cave scooped out of the side.

Diving towards it, he quickly stuck out his feet as he entered and the wings on his back vanished in another burst of fiery ether.

His shoes violently skidded down the rock surface but he simply jumped hither and thither until they landed on level ground.

He dropped his bag and made a gun-shooting gesture with his finger. A small bolt of flame literally shot out and struck something on the floor far head.

Whatever it was though, it now lit up into a flame so bright that it lit the whole of the cave.

A sleeping bag laid right next to the brilliant fire. It looked worn enough but also well-stuffed and comfortable. Some crates and chests laid about surrounding it and the fire. On top of them were several books (and even a scroll or two). Some of them were very much like what he had currently carried. Others though looked significantly thicker, ancient, and hard bound in musty leather. Their spines bore titles written in some form of runic script.

"Home sweet home." he said with a much relieved sigh. He picked up his bag again but only to walk towards the crates and toss it inside one of them. He was more eager to retrieve something from another and took out his brown skates.

In less than a minute, he discarded his sneakers and was once again facing the slope that led out of his abode. The wheels under his feet ground against stone in anticipation.

He turned his head and gave one last look at the fire. Reaching out with his hand, the whole blaze flickered a bit before launching at him in fiery tendrils. They entwined his fingers and his arm but they did not burn, merely faded into his flesh. He clenched his fist, putting out a few lingering embers, before returning his gaze up to the entrance.

When he grinned, it was if the shoes ignited in response. He kicked one step forward. The orange aura whipped in a frenzy as the wheels suddenly revved up.

Andre had run up the rough slope in a manner of seconds. His wings returned and he was flying out again. For a while, he decided to take it slow, only letting the wind lift him up. His eyes closed as he took in the breeze.

Just then he felt his stomach growl and he opened his eyes with a thoughtful look. He decided to fly lower, finally realizing his first order of business.

He was gliding right above the trees for a while until he heard it. A grumpy snorting accompanied a slightly more intense rustling from under the trees. He recognized the sound already but needed a clear shot nonetheless.

Flying to the source of the sound, he took a deep breath to shout.

What came out was a roar that which no mortal man could make. It was feral, loud, and reptilian. All in all, it was all he needed to incite the frightened squealing and the sound of stampeding hooves.

He gave chase with a wild grin, following merely the sound while his eyes searched through the cover of trees for his prey. There were signs of fur and it was likely of greater size than him. And yet, it still managed give him cause for speed.

Looking ahead, he saw a river and sped up even more. His wings beat faster to the point that he now ignored the sound of hooves. Finally, he flew over the snaking ribbon of crystal blue water and made a fierce turn.

It was just in time as he saw not just one but two enormous boars crashing through the trees. Their brindled backs were black and brown. Small were their tusks but they were pointed regardless. Their large size additionally made up for what ever intimidation they still lacked.

He stretched his arms to the side as he turned. A spark of flame lit up, floating before each respective palm. The spark turned into flame and the flame extended into a shaft resembling a javelin.

Squinting his eyes, the boars barely skidded on their hooves at the sight of him when he flung out his hands. The two spears seared through the air and made explosive impact upon their targets. The death cries of the wild pigs were easily drowned by the sound of the blasts.

Andre flew down slowly to their remains and only folded his wings this time. One had its lower jaw completely blown off while he could barely register what was left of the other one's face. Meanwhile the barks of nearby trees burned along with some mulch and undergrowth. It was nothing that he couldn't draw back into his fist however.

He inspected the boars a bit more and then smiled, satisfied. They were indeed large and the height of their hunched backs would've been a head taller than him if they stood. Grabbing their tails, he released his wings and flew up. The only sign of their bodies' weight affecting him was the mild green light that briefly glowed from his skin before vanishing. The feat of lifting up two heavy carcasses was quite easy for him, it seems.

He traveled along the river for a good quarter hour until he spotted what was apparently his next course of action. A large wooden raft, made of several logs bound together, awaited him. A rope led up from it and tied itself around a nearby tree. A massive pile of coils lay in between.

After carefully placing down the boars so that they wouldn't fall off, he dropped down to the shore and untied the rope.

First he picked up the coils and slowly walked along the riverbank, tugging the rope here and there until the current grew more helpful. He jumped again soon after and soared upwards. The coils untangled into a single line as he stretched the rope to its full length.

The length in question was also just right. Not too long that he wasn't too high to spot the raft but not too short that he'd have no wind to lift up his wings.

It was a good half hour before he noticed the riverbank growing sandier, the trees spreading farther apart, and the salty smell of seawater reaching his nose. He was near.

Up ahead, he saw where river finally flow out into a vast ocean. Its water was barely far from the shore and already it was a natural bluish green. On either side, he saw the treetops finally cleared but in their place were straw roofs.

None of these marks of civilization surprised him though. He knew the people here (primitive their culture may seem).

A a series of bamboo piers dipped themselves along the edges of both banks. Walking on one of them, he finally spotted the someone.

Her oil black hair was tied in a high ponytail. The clothing she wore wasn't much, save for a woven, green sash around her waist. The sash itself barely hid her muddy brown bikini bottom. A matching sash wrapped around her chest but it made her look more boyish than busty because of her average size. The colors suited her skin though as it was neither fair nor dark. The spear she carried over her shoulder only added to her mixed air of feminine masculinity.

It didn't take long for her to look up and spot him. Smiling, she set down the spear and gave a small wave. Andre acknowledged the gesture by swooping downwards to his raft and docking it right next to her pier. His wings vanished again, along with his horns and other scaly features.

"_Oy _Andre, _'musta na_? she greeted in her native tongue.

"Just the usual Tena." he responded in the likewise language. He lazily thumbed the two dead boars behind him.

"The usual indeed." she said, eyeing the two boars with a smirk, "You're gonna eat all that again this time?"

"More or less."

"You know what the Elder is gonna say..." she hinted.

"I'm sure we all know there's more where these came from." he bluntly assured.

"And I'm sure _you_ know that's not really the problem Andre." said another voice from behind Tena. The two directed their eyes to its direction and saw an old woman approaching them. Her long grass skirt and large poncho directly contrasted Tena's attire (despite them sharing the same colors). The hair on her head was silver with age but retained a healthy firmness with the way it was tied in a bun.

Wrinkly as her face was, it bore a look of genuine concern when she spoke again, "I've seen what happens when one eats too much boar. I don't need to be your mother to worry about your health."

"Thanks but that doesn't mean you have to Elder Teodora." he calmly reassured, stepping his skates onto the pier with uncanny balance, "And look on the bright side, you got more boar guts. You need them to stimulate the crops, don't you?"

"Oh what good is helping nature grow when you won't partake of its bounty?" she muttered.

"This is bounty." Tena piped, pointing at the boars. The old woman simply groaned and called to Andre's retreating back.

"_Hoy! _I assume you want these done the usual way?"

The boy simply signaled back with a casual wave.

His eyes freely wandered the village as he skated by. The wheels didn't even scatter the sand as they rolled. They merely cut a thin path across the sand.

Bamboo huts were all around him, standing on their stout, rigid stilts. Their residents didn't dress much differently from Tena and the Elder.

In every corner, he would see the growing signs of evening life. It began when he saw the sun had begun to set. The sandy paths that passed for streets were now filled with children playing and freed from their chores. More groups of men and women alike were seen drinking, smoking, and gossiping. None of them paid him any mind however, despite how differently he dressed. Some had even nodded politely and gave him a few words of greeting.

He then arrived at a particularly large hut and it was the only one that wasn't on stilts. Inside, the sight of bamboo tables and chairs greeted him. It was almost like a tavern, with a few exceptions being a lack of a bar and the bright lamps hanging upon ropes. There weren't any people inside either, except him. Although, he had been here long enough to actually savor this silence and solitude before nightfall.

Andre slided between aisles and chose to sit at the table that was closest to the corner. Outside he could hear several voices now giving directions. The heaving of some men. The thud of something being placed. Within minutes there was now smoke entering through another entrance at the back, its wisps carried the appetizing smell of roasting boar.

Rather than savor it though, he just took a sniff and then leaned back. The atmosphere seemed more suitable for a reflection on the past week. The week soon followed previous weeks. Weeks drew back into months. The months then went back to the very day it all began.

It's been over a year since he found this place, found this world, and found who he was. Then again, he still didn't know what to call that last one.

It all started after another long day at the office. It was the end of the month and his company finally managed to achieve one of those long term goals. (Not that it wasn't good, he got himself a raise actually and the prospect of a long holiday ahead.)

Instead of celebrating though, he was just too darn tired. So as usual, he was left alone at his desk, reading till his shift ended.

It was when he decided to go down for a bit of coffee that he overheard some of his workmates gossiping. They didn't discuss anything interesting at first. (Something about some guy and some girl coming down after making out on the roof.) It was when he heard about the roof's door still being unlocked that he felt a sudden urgency.

He didn't run but he was quietly thankful that nobody was following him to the elevator that time. More thankful still was he when he really found the door unlocked and saw no one else around.

Most people would take this chance to look down and dizzy themselves seeing how far up they were.

However, Andre wasn't those people for he sought the complete opposite.

He looked to the sky immediately and just sat there. The building was one of the tallest in the city and hence was the closest he'll ever get to the blue world without having to fly.

That didn't mean that flying wasn't the thing he wanted to do at that very moment.

He didn't know how long he just sat on the roof, envying the freedom with which the sky spread itself. Forget piloting a plane or going sky diving, he just wanted to fly, just himself! Planes are hard too manage and there was not much freedom in falling through the air only to let himself float down on some fat parachute.

Freedom. That was what he wanted and gazing at the sky back then truly made him realize just how much _wasn't_ free. His job was decent and he did it well. He even had a considerable role in his company's recent success.

But that was their success, not his.

In the back of his mind, he was still caged. Caged with fear. Fear that he will never live life any other than how he did now.

His thoughts became even hazier after that and there was a time when he thought was he just falling asleep.

He thought of being frustratingly unsatisfied with whatever getaway the world gave him. Pleasure cruises? Tourist spots? Were those what he really wanted?

The ideas went crazier from there and from that he assumed he was starting to dream. Being the geek that he was, perhaps the closest thing he got to the freedom he sought was in games. Yet who was he kidding? No matter how many cheesy RPGs he indulged himself in, it was all just a game. It didn't help that his hobby bore the stigma of those without a life.

As a result, it was only natural that he started dreaming about sitting on a cliffside. A large jungle spread out before him while several volcanoes blew out smoke far ahead. Above his head, he saw grand flights of dragons soaring above. It was when the cliff he was on began to shake violently that he woke.

He thought he'd never doubt the illusion of his dream. But barely a day after, he already began to.

It was supposed to be a day spent on simply strolling around the city, going to a mall or two. Instead he thought the stress was finally hallucinating him for he spent the entire morning seeing things that other people didn't.

It wasn't so much as seeing rifts in space distorting themselves upon any surface they were on. It was how they did it in full public display yet no one paid heed. Obviously, the logical conclusion is grounds for a breaking mind.

Those were the facts that he started to bitterly accept until he accidentally rested his hand on one.

For a moment, he thought he was going to perish in the hell that followed. A swirl of colors buffeted him from all sides. His mind suffocated from a barrage of sensations. His desire to live automatically kickstarted.

Conveniently enough, that was what apparently got him out of there and into the jungle right outside Lena's village.

More or less, the rest of was history (even though he was yet to understand just what he had been doing the past year). There was not much information he could get from the villagers, not even Elder Teodora. But despite the unsolved mysteries, they have so far pointed him to this conclusion.

There were more worlds out there than his own and his own was in fact a laughable shell of another.

That was the first revelation that put things together. The 'dream' he had was in fact a reality he was just too fatigued to discern. He wasn't however in the same jungle that Lena and her people currently resided in. There were no dragons in the sky, much less volcanoes. The sky was clearer here too.

He was in fact in an entirely different realm that time.

But for some reason, an earthquake rattled him. And what he thought was a bumpy way to wake up was in fact him chaotically hurtling back to his own realm. His own realm though was not without its own secrets, which he soon discovered later.

From the Elder, he learned about the basics of channeling the power which flowed abundantly in this world. For indeed, there was always something odd about the way his world seemed so mundane. Now he knew that it was because this power was restrained to this world. Sure some traces manage to seep through the rifts but these were surprisingly minimal. An unseen force has kept this power from ever flowing out in full.

He didn't seem to care at the time and even now he remains unsure of how much it would matter if he did.

Right now he was simply at awe on how unbelievable this power was. Flames came to his hands at will. He could perform feats of strength without ever needing to look like a bodybuilder. His failing eyesight found itself restored to the point that his glasses now blurred his vision instead of clearing it.

There was no other word for it. This was power was magic.

And it was real.

There were more voices outside when he finally returned to awareness of his surroundings. The light of the sun no longer flickered from outside. The light on the lamps grew only brighter as he saw the dark of night outside.

It didn't make the voices any less lively.

Soon people in all manner of gender, age, and dress came in. They quickly filled the place followed by a few village people, acting like waiters and waitresses. Although, a regular restaurant would have them take things down and not simply walk through the back door and return singlehandedly carrying heavily loaded platters and flagons.

Obviously, this wasn't a regular restaurant.

Regular restaurants wouldn't have magical traders as patrons for one thing. Eventually, his meal had arrived, delivered by none other than Lena herself.

"Well eat up!" she piped as lightly set down the smoking plate of large ribs, chops, and all other meaty portions of wild pork.

"Hm." he said as he tore off a rib and chewed it lazily. "Anyone I know who's coming?" he asked as he looked around. The place was filled with people who were clearly more similar to him than the rest of the village. Some wore urban streetwear just like he did but others donned robes and armor he thought he'd only see in a fantasy role playing game (or a comic book convention). Several of the tables were occupied by those in oriental garbs but some were clearly more European. There were probably over ten different languages spoken all across the din, some he wagered were not even native to his plane.

"I saw Lien's junk docked in the harbor. Haven't seen her yet though." she said before sitting across him and point a chop, "Do you mind?"

"I won't but your grandma would." he replied offhandedly.

"Oh please, she's fed me nothing but ground _ampalaya_ and fish all day." she grumbled, "It doesn't matter how big she makes them, they don't make my stomach full."

Andre briefly glanced at her before returning his attention to the door. She didn't look like it, but Lena was almost two years younger than him. Such growth wasn't uncommon however as mana (a common name for the energy fueling magic) does that to people. Even more so if said people had spent entire generations living a world flowing with it. And with the benefits of magic all too clear for their simple but bountiful way of life, none had any reason to venture back into what they call the Forgotten World.

They were no stranger to visitors though as evidenced by their establishing their village as a sort of trading point.

Just when he returned his attention to partake another rib he felt a presence next to their table, followed by a prompt cough of announcement.

"Ehem..."

He sighed and looked back again, not to the door but few good inches lower in front of him. "And hello to you to Lien." he sarcastically greeted.

Lien was quite short for someone of her late teen years. Those who first meet her would think they were looking at a young Chinese boy who took himself too seriously as an adult. That's expected from the way she sported her large, round glasses, baggy red-and-blue tunic, and fat, matching Mandarin cap.

The only thing closest to feminine about her was her pair of long, black braids that reached all the way down past her waist.

The short girl's head (hat included) barely reached past his shoulders as she sat down next to him.

"You know the drill" he then said, peeling off the remaining layers before tearing off the crispy skin of a leg. This time it was Lien's turn to sigh as she reached for something inside her wide sleeves and pulled out a round, bamboo container. She placed it next to the large platter and pulled off the lid.

"Careful, they're still hot. Not that it matters to you." she said in English. Her voice was surprisingly feminine and clear with barely a hint of an accent.

Andre gave a smiled slightly and slyly upon taking off the lid. About five wonton dumplings were inside and he gestured her to the platter before taking one and popping it into his mouth.

A pair of chopsticks suddenly whisked themselves into Lien's hand. Snapping it a few times, her eyes fell on a fairly sized chop. Both hand and sticks swiftly picked it as a heron would snag an unsuspecting fish.

Throwing it lightly in the air, that same hand then suddenly went into whipping, fiery blur that engulfed the meat. What was left were equally sliced strips which she dexterously caught by conjuring a plate from her other sleeve.

"So... got anything else you wanna swap or do I have to get gold like everyone else again?" he said, digging into the stickier meat of the boar's thigh..

Lien daintily picked up one of the strips before replying, "Actually... this time tis I who has 'got' something for you."

Andre looked up from his food with a quizzical look. Normally their routines always started with trades of food, followed by more monetary discussions. However, it was always him acquiring whatever it was necessary to buy things from Lien. She was after all his only source of knowledge about magic.

This didn't mean she was his teacher. (He'd sooner drop someone from the height of his rocky spire for that suggestion.) Rather, it's what got her a lucrative living being a trader of arcane scrolls and other mystical texts. Andre knew his way around the forests and mountains of this tropical region so there were plenty of natural resources he can use to trade or buy them from her.

Lien though was never one to start a bargain, much less give him a gift. She simply told him what her junk carried and he bought whatever scroll or book that taught him spells closer to his style. It was in fact through her that he learned the art of using Red mana after mastering what he wanted from the nature magic that was drawn from Green. (Naturally, Elder Teodora was his mentor up till then.) The fusion of both colors ultimately revealed the type of power he was destined to embrace: Dragon sorcery, the raging power powered by the spirit of fire and life incarnate.

"What do you mean?" he finally asked, not even minding as Lena sneakily began taking chunks out of the leg he was previously feasting.

"I've brought news. News that might concern you." she said.

"Bad or good?"

"Listen first."

She quickly ate another strip before beginning, "The Order of Charlemagne. They've made their way here."

His brow furrowed and his hand no longer reached for more food while his eyes began carefully looking around. "The Order? Here?" he said, "I don't-."

"Not here exactly." she continued, "However, they've already made their presence known in the Two Empires across the sea. Given our position, there'll be no doubt where they'll go next."

"What? I thought you guys had a pretty mean policy against proselytizing?" he said.

"That was never enough to keep them out." she gravely answered, "I'm sure you've heard enough about them. They're determined but they're also subtle. The knights they send are brutish and bumbling but are sent in deceptively small numbers by more cunning superiors. Two months before, they came alone. Last month, in pairs. Before we realized it, a small community had already formed in the undergrounds of both empires."

"And your emperors kept letting those people in because...?" he said disbelievingly.

"Because they haven't stirred trouble so far..." she explained, "That and rumors abound of how they've slipped in by simply acting as companions, guardians, and even partners of the western merchants. We can live without their beliefs but not without their trade. It has been trade in fact that has kept peace for so long."

"Well if you've kept them from causing trouble this long then I don't see how this village won't have a less easier time." he said dismissively, "For a minute there I thought you were telling me the Order's was getting ready to wage war on you guys."

"That is only because we're always aware and our eyes on them are never idle." she said with a smirk before reverting back to serious.

"I'm sorry Andre but I just do not think this place can boast the same strength." she said, "If they arrived here in the same manner that they have back in my home, you won't have enough eyes on them when it's too late."

"Tch, if it comes to that then I'll do something about it." he scoffed before stuffing himself with another rib.

Lien watched silently with eyes concealed by the light reflecting off her spectacles. "Actually," she slowly again spoke, "It's you I'm most worried about."

"Excuse me?" Andre replied with a raised brow, "You saying I can't take on a bunch of dumb blondes in shining armor?"

"No I'm saying _you're_ the reason why they're coming here." she snapped. Andre blinked, not because of her tone (he actually likes it at times) but from what she just said.

"M-me?" he stammered.

"Yes. You."

"Me?" he repeated, "The reason? The reason why an entire order of knights is slowly gonna assemble in these parts? What are ya, nuts?"

She removed her glasses and sighed. For a moment, her face seemed more feminine with them off even though Andre was still mentally reeling at the absurdity of what she implied.

"Have you even wondered what they've been doing in the middle of that assembling?" she asked him in turn. He shrugged. She groaned. Her glasses were put back on. His hand reached for a chop.

"They've been gathering information." she wearily explained, "We may have their hands tied for now but that doesn't stop them from sailing back and bringing word to places where they are less unchallenged. The farther they are into those areas, the less capable my country can hold them into account for any offenses."

She reached into her sleeves and pulled out a thick, rolled piece of parchment.

"Here is the result of that." she said, and he could've sworn she sounded angrier as he took it, "I managed to gather these when I was on my last trip to the West."

He only rolled it halfway and already he saw what made her so pissed. On it he saw that it was actually several pieces rolled into one. The first page bore the picture of several Chinese mages who dressed similarly to Lien. Underneath though was something that read like a mix between a propaganda piece and a profile on how to defeat the so-called "Allies of the Adversary" (which coincidentally was the header on each page).

"Hmm... let's see... 'agents of greed'... 'uses demon fire when deception fails' Gee I don't know Lien, it's kinda on the mark sometimes as far as you're concerned." he joked.

"Oh that's funny. I use demon fire and deception just so I can feed myself." she sarcastically retorted, "Read the next page."

It became his turn to frown when he did. On it was a boy in rags he thought only Tarzan would wear. Instead of acting like an ape though, this one had horns, scaly wings, and was roaring out fire on a tree branch.

"Look familiar?" she said, making it her turn to joke.

"Ugh." he said with a scowl as he forced himself to read, "'Dragons and demons'... 'different branches of the same tree'... 'savage, carnal'... 'eats fair maidens on sight'? Ew, no."

He dropped the sheets on the table with disgust. "Well I was right about one thing. Only dumb blondes in shining armor would write this crap." he commented.

"Well these 'dumb blondes' know all about you, in case you haven't figured it out." she scolded, "Your little escapade in the Empire of Edo has well reached western shores."

"Right, and who's fault was it that people started talking in the first place?" he shot back accusingly.

Lien winced in slight unease but adamantly replied with only a small stutter, "Hmph, wh-what makes you think I had anything to do with all that gossip? By the time they got me talking, word had already spread all over the Port of Kunlun."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't help an amused smile at her denial. "Well whatever. If they're heading this way, let them. I don't give a shit. If they got bad plans for this place, let them try. If it's _me_ they're after, I'd _love_ to see them try."

"I'm sure you do." she said, finally resigned.

"Why are you so worried anyways?" he questioned, "You scared the Order will give you one less of a trade sto-"

"I don't say this as merchant Andre." she interrupted. However, the incendiary bite of such interruptions was now unusually absent. Even more so was the sad look she gave when sat up and then turned to face him.

"I say this is a friend."

Andre blinked at her a few times and scratched his head a little guiltily now. "You consider me a friend?" he slowly asked.

"I was just as much a novice of trade as you were of magic when we first met. You're one reason why I'm where I am. It should merit you at least that much." she said with a small smile.

"Well then," he said, smiling back, "as _your_ friend, I'll make you a little promise. This place'll be fine. _I'll_ be fine."

Lien shook her head disbelievingly but was still smiling all the same when she left. "Stop by my junk before you head back. If you're going knock heads with knights from the Order, you should at least get some knowledge on the magic they use." she had said before heading back out.

"That sounded serious." Lena now muttered, seeing the conversation over. Andre eyed her amusingly. She could never understood a word outside her native dialect but she was remarkably sharp when it comes to reading tones and moods. He's got to give her credit for being so perceptive even whilst in the midst of stuffing herself with boar.

"Not serious enough for you to bother the Elder." he assured her as he too resumed feasting. By the time the platter was depleted save for bones and fat, he told Lena to have the second batch wrapped up and readied alongside the gold he earned from selling them the remaining organs and parts. Meat wasn't the only commodity that the forest provided through its monstrous beasts.

He departed from the tavern with a warm, banana-leaf bag of meat over his shoulder and a small sack of gold in his other hand. Skating towards the docks, he bypassed even more tourists and traders. The masts and sails of their ships could already be seen before he returned to the piers. He actually jumped right into the center of Lien's deck (much to her irritation as she had just mopped it) upon arriving. Her junk was quite distinguishable with its blue-red scheme and fiery wings stretching out from the bow.

After a few minutes of talking, purchasing, and a few more trades with food, Andre left for his spire with lighter bags, a fuller stomach, and a few books on White magic (and hopefully, its weaknesses).

He arrived faster than when he made for the village that afternoon. Most likely, it was due to him being able to fly freely throughout the night air without being bound to his raft. (He had no use for it outside hauling back in more slain creatures for harvesting.) The sound of the forest's evening fauna chirped and creaked below him.

The fire that lit up his cave was once again reignited and he sat down lazily on his sleeping bag. Taking out a rib, he opened up one of the tomes and began to read.

White magic was indeed as every bit of what he disliked about it. There was emphasis on order, restraint, and worst of all, the determination to destroy all which threatened what it sought to build. The spells it governed centered around community and military might. The creatures it called forth typically comprised of angels as well as mana constructs in the form of military figures who brought forth more recruits along with their summoning. Mages who used White were generally adept in either martial combat or healing arts (sometimes both). Naturally, its ties to religious elements soon followed.

All in all, it wasn't something a free-flying dragon like him would appreciate. If he wanted restraint and simplicity all his life, he'd go back to the empty existence he lived before discovering this world, before magic became a part of his life.

And soon, very soon, he'll set out to discover more.

No amount of bossy, dogmatic dunderheads are going to mess with that plan.

The descriptions on all the books soon bored him and he began scanning for information on White mana's relationship with other schools. As it turns out, it runs counter to two of the five basic colors, Black and Red.

_Big surprise there..._ he sarcastically thought. He couldn't care less about Black but he cared about everything to do with freedom. Be it the freedom of the sky, the freedom of raging flames, and the freedom of traveling worlds beyond his own. That was the freedom he found when he mentally devoured every text, tome, and scroll on the unpredictable spells of Red magic. Whether it was magic that gave him speed, fire, or the very wings that sprouted on his back, they were all through the power of Red mana.

It's not unusual for such power to be contrary to a White mage's virtues. For them, fire is only destruction and a dragon is the ultimate symbol of chaos.

_Makes me wonder why they're here and not just living back up there? The so-called 'real world' has enough simplicity and order to bore a snail._

Although, Andre experienced an authentic surprise upon learning that White shared values with Green.

Life. Community. Peace. Of course, it's no surprise that an entire tribe dedicated to Green magic for so long will also value these things. Elder Teodora certainly didn't want him accidentally setting someone's hut on fire. He in turn was instinctive enough to know the dangers his new magic posed to the life of even the jungle's most beastly denizens. It was why he spent most of his practice within the safe confines of his spire.

Granted he should give credit to Green mana as well. For while it lacks the unbound spirit of Red, it was through the channeling arts of Green that he gained more fuel for his flames. It gave more solid form to his wings. Dragons are the natural offspring of such a union. There's was a fire contained within flesh that carried the strength of a mighty predator.

And unlike White, druids of old embraced freedom for freedom existed in nature as much as it did in sky and flame.

None of which the Order of Charlemagne could ever appreciate with its emphasis on restriction and civilization. Both are things wielders of Green mana often swore themselves to avoid. The result is a magic emphasizing on the strength to break free of such binds (be they enchanted or forged). Any attempt at destroying them is also met with the unbound recovery of nature.

Recalling this fact, Andre now found a confident, one-size-fits-all solution to whatever the Charlemagne knights would throw at him.

Taking the books and his food, he skated to the wider space that was behind the crates. It was bordered by a steppe that went simply four feet lower. Jumping down and placing his things on it, he began to practice for the supposed encounters he might have.

The remaining food was consumed much faster after that. He rehearsed spells of both strength and speed. Fire soon followed along with what could rejuvenate it (and himself as well).

It was barely late but already the banana-leaf sack was empty. His mind exhausted but satisfied. Leaping over the steppe, he kept his books, removed his skates, and snuggled himself within his sleeping bag before extinguishing the fire by only raising his hand over it. The cool breeze that whirled about the spire blissfully blew in and downwards from the mouth of his cave.

This for Andre was peace and he will not stand for any other version.

The next morning, it appeared that his peace has remained unchanged so far when he woke up and climbed to the mouth. The sun was already halfway towards the sky, meaning breakfast was going to be late.

That never stopped him from having it.

Smiling sleepily, he went back and retrieved his skates, a satchel of bacon, a satchel of eggs, and a frying pan. He went carefully this time, making sure not to break the eggs. It wasn't so bad but he did flap his wings a bit harder so he can get to eating soon.

He had his breakfast at the top of his spire. A mystical fire flickered without kindle as he cooked his food. After devouring the contents of both satchels, he flew back to his cave to clean. And by clean up, he simply dumped his frying pan and empty bags into the crates before taking off again.

Back in the forgotten world, it was already Saturday. This meant that the whole weekend would be spent here in this world. He didn't have much to go back for. His family knew he lived on his own now. And asides from a few trifles such as clothes (and perhaps a few urbane snackfoods), he had no reason to go back for the long time-being.

He gazed eagerly towards the horizon, wondering what other places he can fly to for today. He had already flown to the Empire of Edo (inconvenient some of its results were). Should he check up on Lien at Kunlun?

These were his thoughts until he smelled something that was only unusual when he wasn't the source: smoke.

It wasn't even the smoke of magical fire (odd that he could tell). It was simply the smoke of a campfire, all the way out here, in a dangerous jungle that only he was capable of surviving.

He whirled about, using his sharpness of the dragon's eyes and nose to locate the source. Much to his shock, it was right at the bottom of his spire. The smoke was faint but the wind was strong enough to carry it around for his nose to follow.

Hovering carefully closer, he squinted his eyes and his vision zoomed in on an empty sleeping back. The fire was out apparently but the smoke that came out could only mean it was done recently, dangerously recently.

"I've been waiting for you."

His nerves jolted and he soared forward before turning around.

A young woman with pale white hair floated before him. Her armor almost looked like the standard, steel plate for females save for the bronze eagle emblem on her chest. Her faulds were extended over the very long blue skirt of her dress. Beneath, he could barely see the pointed tips of her greaves. Her gauntlets encased her entire forearms.

Her hair was tied into a large and loose braid with a red ribbon that matched her hazel brown eyes. Her right shoulder bore a large pauldron, forged with the face of what looked like either an owl or an eagle. The other had only a spaulder but it was no less sturdy. In her right hand was a single longsword, plain in all aspects but a weapon all the same.

"Dragon. Prepare thyself!" she declared, pointing her sword at him.

"Aw hell no..." he quietly swore as she sped towards him. He didn't waste time flying away but not before glancing at exactly what it was that gave her flight.

Perhaps it was because of the sun, but now he that she too had wings on her back. But unlike the living, beating wings on his, these were static, lifeless and only shimmering.

_Like a fucking magical jetpack..._ he thought musingly as she gave chase, _still ain't natural though... gotta fix that._

He flew upwards, testing first just how much height her little enchantment can get her. He could see her furrowing her brows but she rose to his challenge, somewhat. At the speed she went, he almost felt guilty about what he was going to do next. Almost.

Closing his eyes briefly, his mind reached out to the forests below him. Their abundant mana eagerly responded and flowed through his fists.

Wildly did he cast them downwards, his legs spread out on either side of them. Their green glow easily earned a look of surprise from the knight.

He didn't need his draconic vision to see the sudden chipping of the wings, followed by cracks, before finally shattering into the wind.

She fell and for one brief moment, he felt compelled to save her. Though for what reason, he wouldn't believe the first impulse of heroism. She could've killed him for all he knew. No, he wanted to know how she survived the jungles all for the sake of pursuing _him_.

It was strange however that she didn't scream. Instead, she actually reached out for her hand.

When he saw the light, he realized that his compulsion was unfounded. Furthermore, there was something odd about the mana she produced that made it his turn to furrow his brow.

Blue and white. That was what formed the summoning pentagram that popped out before her palm. The circle burst into a flash and he partly shielded his eyes.

As it vanished, he saw her flying up to him again. This time, it was on the back of a large, golden griffin. Though unlike most he's seen and heard, this one didn't have feline ears or even feathery extensions. Its head was that of a pure, natural eagle with the matching body of a large lion. The armor on its chest bore a round crystal of glowing blue.

Blue.

He was no stranger to facing mages uniting two colors like he did, or even three. However, the knights always struck him as the types to favor White above all else. Something told him he wasn't facing just a grunt initiate into their order.

"Faster my first-wing!" he heard her cry and, again, pointing that damn sword. Still, he had to give the griffin credit. It sure as hell flew better than she did.

It's too bad that he can only let it fly for so long.

He spun and flew forward before making a sharp turn right and then a dive. The griffin was apparently still not as fast as him as he was now below it.

He drew forth mana again. Though this time, he reached out to his spire and even the surrounding mountains. He called for the fierce power they held deep within and soon his hands burned with the sensation of Red mana.

He stretched out his left hand to his side. Swirls of flame began to extend once more into the shape of a narrow shaft. With the griffin wide open in his sights, he flung the searing javelin towards it.

This time however, the knight was prepared. Her eyes shone blue and she threw out her free hand. From its pointed tip, the javelin immediately dispersed into harmless red wisps, its magic complete countered.

_Shit._ he mentally swore. _She's definitely packing Blue. Blue runs counters. Counters are never good._

Blue. Now there was a school he didn't know whether to despise or admire. Intellect, metamagic, and complex theory. Those were the closest things to personal values that Blue held. Unlike White however, Blue was simply the power of logic and intelligence manifested through magic. Truth be told he could relate to the endless pursuit of knowledge attributed to Blue mages. What he had been doing the past year was simply the unrefined version of that.

However, he never liked its capacity for mental trickery and nullification. It's not that he hated it. He actually feared it. If there was one thing he was weak against, it was someone who knows the deeper structures of magic. Those who did could cancel out all manner of arcane offense or defense, no matter how powerful.

Power was the only discipline Andre ever knew.

On the other hand, since when did White mages of the order pack Blue? It's true that he's seen some very religious yet very reasonable folks but the knights of Charlemagne weren't among them. He's seen it himself a few times how they had been apprehended for destruction of property purely on fanatical grounds. (Dragon magic, elf magic, merfolk magic, it was all demon magic to them.)

He began to fly faster, no longer sure what might happen if he let her get too close. He already had enough risks for being in close proximity to White mages while in his part-dragon form. There's no telling what an additio of Blue could do to him.

That didn't mean the dragon mage wasn't without small theory of his own.

Upon being far enough, he faced her again. His arms crossed almost solemnly over his face and his eyes closed. A red glow came from his body that was so brief, it was almost a blink, before he sharply reopened his eyes.

He threw another javelin. Again, she dispelled it but again he threw a third.

_I knew it..._

His third spear did not disperse but instead exploded headlong into something solid. And already, there were slight burns on the gauntlet she had used to cast whatever it was that withstood his projectile.

… _still a noob._

Now if only it spared him from the free swipe that his opening now provided the rider and her steed.

He grunted in pain as he flew up, her sword swung down to graze his leg as he did. His injury though did nothing to hinder his ascension.

Once he attained greater heights, he raised both his hands and conjured a fireball in between that would form his fourth javelin. The unusual glow returned but lit him up a bit more brightly.

To the knight's shock, he somersaulted and dove back down. The spell was still forming as he split his hands apart and it with them.

The two halves though did not die. And before she realized it, the spell had been twinned and the halves reshaped into a pair of the dreaded missiles.

Both rider and steed reared back, as if they were of one mind. The latter had even blasted an extra thrust of air from its wings before diving to the jungle canopy as fast as it could.

Andre naturally wouldn't waste time. The javelins were launched and they left a smokeless trail of searing brilliance. Their tails curved in accordance to the direction of their fleeing target.

The knight managed to glide right under the trees but the explosion that burst out a few seconds later signaled her futility.

He instantly flew to the spot where the smoke began to rapidly rise into a column. The griffin lay dead right amongst the roots of a nearby tree. Its feathers were on fire and its lion half was incinerated beyond recognition. The knight was coughing badly, trying to stand not so far from its side. Her armor was severely blackened.

For some reason, his eyes grew even brighter and a low growl rumbled in his throat. Faint swirls of green began gathering the tongues of fire that still lingered. Their power seemed to recollect the remnants of the spell into his hands for one last assault.

The girl sensed the magic's work and whipped around with her sword raised before her. Her eyes glared at him ever so hatefully.

He could only sneer at this front. She couldn't hit him. He was still flying too far up and it was doubtful that her mind could come up with a solution when her body is in such a state.

"All right bitch, you got 30 seconds to tell me how the _fuck_ you managed to get all the way out here and why the hell did you just try to slice me a new one." he slowly but harshly demanded.

"You have been charged with the disruption of order, violation of various border treaties both in this world and another," she automatically recited, "and just now, blasphemy and repulsive misconduct."

"Pff, you some kinda nun in a Catholic school during your free time?" he mocked, "And whaddya mean 'another'? I've only flown around in _this_ world and nobody ever gave a shit."

This time it was she who smirked, "Are you so sure? You're not the only one who has a life both on this plane and the one encasing it. Well... then again, only one of us here is pursuing the life that's supposed to be lived."

Andre narrowed his eyes and scowled. "Oh I get it now... so your type actually exists. I'm guessing you found out what I _really _did in Edo." he spoke icily.

"More or less..." she replied with a scoffing noise, "Honestly, I've encountered more than my fair share of rogue planeswalkers exploiting the connection between this realm and the other for their worldly advances. Conquest. Smuggling. Human trafficking. You on the other hand use it all for the purpose of obtaining lewd statues of animated school girls."

A yellow toon vein popped out on Andre's hair but he otherwise didn't speak as some sweatdrops followed for an apparently embarrassed reaction. A shadow was now covering his eyes as his lips curved sharply downwards.

"So..." she continued, now pointing the sword at him, one-handed. Again. "What life and responsibility did you abandon dragon? Family? Friends? Co-workers? All of the above?"

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" he finally snapped, "First that samurai bitch and now you! Just what is it with you people and telling others how to live?"

He threw out his arms outwards to their respective sides. Fireballs reignited in his palms and a total of four javelins materialized from them.

"I didn't abandon anybody. I lived a life where either people wouldn't give a flying fuck about me or do but could never really relate!" he shouted with his eyes ablaze. "If finding a place where I can feel a lot less of that crap is a crime for your kind, then put me on your Most Wanted List for all I care! I don't give a damn and you're not taking this from me!"

Without hesitation, he launched all four at her and at such a relatively close range he could only wait for the great big boom.

Instead, there was only silence.

His eyes widened as his ears heard nothing, not even the trees or the sizzling of his spears. Neither did he hear a thing as his javelins vanished with one sweeping gesture from the knight. A smoky trail of white and blue was all that was left.

And within that silence, her eyes were closed and her face showed deep, concentrated thought.

When she opened them again, she pointed at him and he felt a horrid sensation on his back. The bones on his wings broke and the flaps back to literally crack like glass. There was an explosive burst and it obliterated in shards before blowing away as useless red aether.

"Oh fu-!"

He fell and it was hard, even as he tried to slow it by grabbing some branches. Thankfully he broke neither arm nor leg but there was quite a pain throbbing in his rear.

"Be grateful dragon. We of the Order are as merciful as Our Lord." she then said, raising up her sword and calling up a summoning circle of pure white before her.

Another knight blinked into existence upon it. A silvery helm with wings on either side rested on her head. Rough locks of brown hair still managed to grow past it. Her armor was a set of leather and steel, her weapons a set of sword and shield. No sooner had the circle disappeared when she raised her own sword and called for three smaller circles around her. Three soldiers materialized as she did, bearing less ornate armor and weapons.

"Captain, arrest him." the first knight ordered. The captain simply nodded as she and her men sternly approached.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways sir." she continued, "You'll see it soon enough. We only wish to set you back on the path that humanity was supposed to live. Not this heretical, upstart fantasy."

Andre had only a cold yet fierce glare and the following words for an answer, "I didn't ask for directions."

He instantly stood up and remembered just the spell that would best express both his disdain and conviction. Fantasy eh? So he was never meant to live this life? He was never meant to be free from his world's restraints? Free from irrelevant political affairs? Free from a life of repetition and routine? Free from the futility of people trying to pry into his mind only to regret, reject, or at least fail to understand what they discover within?

Free from the fear at the heart of it all?

_Bullshit._ was what he only thought as he felt the rage of Red mana well up inside.

Thrusting out his right hand, a fierce yellow blast of heat shot out and struck the captain. Her screams and burning form was enough to shock the soldiers and ignite the disruption of their formation. With this opening, he repeated the spell but divided its power and hurled it at them in the form of three, homing projectiles.

Stunned from the loss of their leader, the soldiers soon met the same fate.

He slammed his fist into the ground. And before the knight could react, the ground rumbled around them. Earth was thrown up and shook off from mossy green skin. A total of six warren holes opened up surrounding the chaos. And from each of them, out came a screeching, rabid goblin.

Her allies were all but smoke. Fire still raged around her. The six goblins were all he needed to give her the illusion of a final challenge.

And fell for it, she did.

One charged yet she struck first with a skillful thrust. A second leapt on her left and she swung her sword up with both hands to meet it. The first goblin still skewered on its blade.

The weight did have its consequences. The cooldown of her muscles gave the remaining ones just the opening they needed.

She fell as two simultaneously jumped on her back. It did not loosen her grip but her prone form gave the remaining two all the time they needed.

Grunting, she tried reaching up and bashing one of those weighing her down. Her fist struck true and the goblin howled, massaging its broken nose. She then attempted to roll and roughly managed to shove both of them off.

She didn't bother retrieving her sword. Partly it was because the other pair were currently busy fighting over who gets to kill her with it and partly because she noticed something from the corner of her eye.

Her true target had gone.

And now, she was caught between a growing forest fire and vicious goblins who realized their enemy had freed herself.

"Typical..." she muttered, surveying the burning destruction, "You're as every bit as destructive as you are accused... and then some. Coward."

As if to answer, a vicious roar echoed all across the jungle. The goblins stopped and turned around. The knight herself squinted through the haze of smoke but soon found it needless as another roar redirected her eyes towards the sky.

Tearing through the clouds was a large dragon with bronze scales and thick stripes of dark orange. The stripes wrapped the body, giving it a hybrid look between the magical beasts of lore and the reptilian predators of a more savage world. A single row of flattened spines ran down its back. Its wings were vast and its nose bore stubby spikes. The pair of horns on its head were small, almost barely growing out of its head. Its hind legs were thick and large while its front claws were small and dextrous.

_A hellkite! Here?_ thought the stunned knight, _No, wait..._

As it glided across the trees, she saw a blur jump out and grab the tip of its large tail.

Andre's body worked fast as he carefully climbed the tail by grabbing onto the spines. He leapt over the rear and then smoothly skated down its back, grabbing onto a spine between the shoulders.

The dragon's charged right for her, its mouth flowing with embers.

Yet before its breath unleashed, the knight made another sweeping gesture with her hand. A torrent of blue mana whirled around her. The goblins screeched as it banished them into aether. The dragon itself began to dissipate in the same way, head first.

It was the second time Andre fell from the sky that day.

Thankfully, the blast of her mana enabled him to backflip and then use his enhanced endurance to make a powerful landing.

He angrily dashed forward, hoping to simply just end this with his fist (girl or no girl). When he got there, it seemed that his creatures weren't the only things that vanished.

The knight was nowhere to be seen (nor to be smelled or heard either). The fires themselves were even extinguished.

"Fine way to evacuate yourself soldier." he admitted with an arrogant smirk but then his face turned serious as he recalled her last few words.

_Planeswalker..._ he thought. For so long, that was the most he could ever find out about what he was: A label. He had yet to find full information of what a planeswalker was, the full extent of their power, and finally, how he could tap into what gave them that name.

_There are other worlds out there..._ he mused, _and if I went to one once, it's high time I went again. I need to get outta here. Away from this world._

Determination now set, he called forth his dragon's wings and took off to the sun.

_Only then can I be stronger and only then can I rid myself of fear_._ I will have that freedom, whatever it takes!_

000

**Author's Note:** Well that ends chapter two. Hopefully it'll draw more attention to at least merit a nice comment. If not, well I'll just get another OC and start out their tale. Oh yeah, in case you missed it, the anime/manga referenced here is in fact _Air Gear_. (The Swiftfoot-Boots-turned-Skates was the big giveaway. :P) Another reason why I wanted to finish this was because I've been commissioned but hopefully, I'll be able to finish in time start a new one.


	3. Ashley's Story: Witch's Return

**Author's Note: **Warning! The following chapter is why I rated this M. Contains explicit rape. Sorry for taking so long to update. As this is the third chapter now, I should tell you at this point that all these stories are kinda connected. And in keeping with the theme of tying a lot of anime tropes here, I decided to delve to the darker side and throw in some hentai. Please don't flame. This is actually one of the few times I've tried a hand smut to expand my style. Constructive criticism is preferred thanks.

000

One could always tell how decrepit a crypt was from the dust that fell from its ceiling. It was like the whole place could cave in at any moment. It was also an obvious mark of age. The slightest footfalls would send clouds of the dust rolling on the floor.

And yet, such places remain intact. The dead resting within their tombs sleep on undisturbed. As for those who threatened their slumber, they face hungering threats lying in the shadows.

It was hardly the best place to be sleeping.

But there she was, legs spread out and ending in black, bladed graves. Her head rested lazily against the wall. The only light she had in this darkness came from a small torch that hung right above her.

She laid between two sarcophagi of medieval design. Much like the rest of the tomb, these were engraved with images of knights and kings going battle against all manner of monsters. Dragons and demons alike were depicted slain. On occasion, some carried the images of angels along with clerics banishing undead hordes.

The young woman was a sharp contrast. Whilst her hair was a short bob of pale blonde, she wore mostly dark leather. Whether it was the tube top wrapping her large bust; the brown mini-shorts hugging her hips; or the spiked gauntlet on her right forearm, everything she wore didn't appear quite revering. It didn't help that her brown, leather boots only accented the bareness of her firm legs.

Then again, she was in a tomb and despite the imagery of its engravings, it was a dark place indeed. Perhaps she belonged more than the images (that ironically, were already a faded, crumbling shade of gray to begin with). Some of the stone faces were already disfigured by time. The air was cold despite the presence of fire.

Still the girl slept on, her gauntlet resting on her bare left arm. It was only when she heard the sound of clanking footsteps that her green eyes slowly opened.

About a few yards in front of here was a passageway leading into a wide staircase the led upwards. The sounds came from there and soon, more light bathed it as a large squadron of knights stormed down. On the front were bulkier guards, armored so heavily they were like white, mobile ramparts. The corners of their steel collars were raised high, their pauldrons curved along a half-arc, and short barbutes that barely poked higher. Their weapons consisted of massive, tower shields and small baton-like maces. Behind them were lighter armored squires equipped with spears.

"That must be her." one of the men whispered.

"Quiet! She could still be sleeping." hissed another.

The young woman rolled her eyes and stood up, proving the latter wrong. Several of them gasped and she saw spears being brought down, pointing against her through the formation of shields. She counted five in total (and lazily at that).

Only a single set of footsteps continued to echo off the crypt's walls. A female knight came out from between the men. Her armor was a lighter plate compared to her bulkier comrades with and wore a finned pauldron with overlapping layers on her right shoulder. Following her was a much younger girl, probably her squire. She was dressed only in mail with a sleeveless tabard bearing the image of a horse and bound around the waist by a leather belt. Both women had swords at their side and bore nearly identical hairstyles. The knight had hair that was a bob much like the blonde's while the young girl's was a bare medium length that followed a similar look.

"Stay where you are witch!" she commanded, "Have at least the respect to know why we are here... and what you are being charged with."

The woman just rubbed her neck with her bare hand and was the only thing the knight could consider a response.

"Myra." she ordered quietly.

"Yes my liege." said the younger girl while drawing out a scroll strapped to her belt.

"Nameless Witch!" she announced upon rolling it out, "You stand charged for the crimes of banditry, murder, resisting arrests, the practice of forbidden magic, and the desecration of this sacred burial ground. These are further followed by allegations of lascivious misconduct and multiple accounts of abominable rape."

"Well witch, what have you to say?" said the knight while her men looked on fearfully despite the firmness with which they held their arms.

Again, no response save the rotation of the arm bearing her gauntlet. Her eyes didn't seem quite focused on the situation.

"Nothing?" spoke the knight, "Very well. That makes this easy." She gave the squire her hand and the girl promptly rolled the scroll and handed it to her.

In mere seconds, the item burst into swirls of white aether that circulated around the knight's arm. It's brilliance lit up the tomb as she held it up with her other hand.

A white circle appeared underneath the witch and gave more light around her feet. Luminous bindings sprang out of its borders and made haste to wrap around her.

In one moment, she simply stood there as the fetters were less than inches away from capture. In the next, all they caught was empty air.

"Jesus..." spoke the witch's voice as she suddenly blurred back, merely a single pace away from spearpoint. Runic markings across the straps of her boots flashed in bright orange. "And they tell _me_ to slow down..."

The squire holding the spear lunged at her in reflex only for her to skip back without so much as a wince. She was toying with them, clearly.

"And Nameless Witch? You might as well call me Nameless Bitch..." she added with a chuckle, "Ah well... not like I _didn't_ do all that shit."

She vanished again and reappeared sitting at the end of one sarcophagus, one leg curled up while another over the edge. "Still... I got a name you know." she said.

Raising her left hand, an unholy blaze ignited across her arm. Its haze of crimson and violet clearly belonged to no natural flame.

"It's Ashley..." she said with a devious smile, "What's yours?"

The knight instantly went for her sword at this display but bit her lips when she knew a reply was still due. "Lyra... Knight of the Eos Dawn. Our order seeks to rebuild that which was lost in the Conflux. Desecrators such as yourselves only serve to hinder our efforts!"

She drew out her weapon: a longsword with a dome-shaped pommel and a handguard bearing a golden sigil of the sun. "This is your last chance." she declared, pointing with her blade, "Come quietly and perhaps I can have them lower your sentence to life in the lowest caste. You might spend the rest of your days as my squire, but... I will care for you and see that you make amends."

"Aww... " Ashley crooned, "... that's sweet and all but..."

Her burning hand clamped over her gauntlets and now both hands held up great tongues of fire. "I'd rather take care of _you_." she seductively spoke before swinging her arms to the side.

The flames in both hands burst out into hurtling balls that curved on either side towards the knightly formation.

"Shields up!" Lyra ordered as she and her squire took cover. Aside from its shade, she also noticed a heavy shadow deep at the core of these hellish spheres. Whatever it was did not look like something she would want touch her.

The fireballs collided against the hard steel and the guards behind them were stunned at the weight that shoved them back.

"My liege, look!" said her squire.

"I know Myra..." Lyra said, "So the tales were true..."

The flames had vanished and the shadows underneath revealed as it fell back. Or more likely, they _jumped_ back.

Red was their skin and impish was their build. But unlike goblins or even most demons, these bore horns of darkes blacks. Inky spikes dotted down its neck and ended in twin-tail with arrow-pointed protrusions.

"What are these..? Devils?" Lyra asked herself. "No matter... Myra! Come!"

Her soldiers parted to make way for both knight and squire. As per the custom of any citizen of Bant, she presented herself as the representative champion of her cause. Whether or not Ashley was aware of this, she certainly did not make it seem so with the way she beckoned her to strike.

But as the knight moved ever forward, light began to shimmer from sigils that decked the shields and arms of her comrades. She could feel their brilliance filling her with strength, with hope, and with exalted fervor in support against this unholy apostle. Her armor resonated with their will, forming a protective aura that made her presence its own light in the dark crypt.

Although, she was no fool. The means with which the witch conjured these devils were unlike any Grixis art that she ever witnessed. The devils themselves did not resemble any known kind. Is this some new foul craft that must be reported to the sages?

She dashed forward regardless. The unknown was never an excuse for cowardice. Besides, what had she to truly fear? Behind her was the strength of her whole battalion and closer still was her squire, ready to convey her commands.

Lyra's sword raised up with both hands. Its edge flashed brightly as she swung down, confident that it would strike first even if the devils did dare to stand in her way.

Not only did they close in, they did so with kindled fury. A glowing, red pulse emanated from Ashley's hand and fire burned from their eyes. The muscles of their nimble bodies now slightly swelled. One swiped its claw upwards and parried her strike to her left. The other she had to kick back with her leg but still she persisted. Using the parry's momentum, she spun and turned her attention back to cut down the first devil.

The creature caught in just in time, much to Lyra's frustration. It only doubled when its partner leaped on her back with a screech, clawing her shoulders. Angrily, she thrust forward with her sword, rubbing painfully against the devil's palms and making a cut near its eye.

It shrieked and let go, giving her the perfect chance to swing the sword to her back and strike the devil saddling her. She felt its weight lift but did not waste time to see what part she had struck. Her eyes were completely focused on Ashley and resumed her charge.

There was a reddish blur as the devils continued to jump at her from either side. Despite their injuries, they lunged in protective defiance, eager to continue their skirmish. With no other choice, she shifted her blade to her right and swung to the left.

The shining sword cleaved straight through the waist of one devil. Its claw took a fast but hard swipe at her shoulder before dying. Another swing and the second one also fell but not before digging its nails in the place behind her plated leg.

Imbalanced as she was, there was now nothing between her blade and the witch. Using only her weight, she threw herself at her with her sword lifted up.

Ashley smirked as her own eyes burned red and her bare hand drew something behind her back.

A small knife, no bigger than a pick, was all that knocked back the great longsword. But with her strength spent on cutting down the devils, it left her blade's weight dangerously light by itself. Lyra's eyes widened as she felt the inertia pull back her arms into the perfect opening.

Ashley's black gauntlet blazed as she followed up her parry with a savage puch. Her fist struck the knight's stomach. And despite the thick layer of plate and mail, Lyra almost gagged from the blow.

"MY LIEGE!" the squire screamed as her master shot straight back to their formation like a batted ragdoll. The guards scrambled and barely parted so that her back would not collide with their shields. Two squires in the rear were forced to drop their spears in order to catch her.

"My liege! My liege!" cried Myra while her hand glowed white with healing magic.

"Steady yourself Myra! The rest of you as well." she barked but gritted her teeth in evident pain of broken bones. Her scolding only pressed the squire to speed up her healing. The cool feeling of her recovery was hard to deny.

"Hehe..." snickered Ashley while twirling her blade. A searing flash sparked from its edge when she stopped and playfully slashed the air with it.

"Well c'mon boys... I'm wide open..." she goaded with a sly wink.

"Don't fall for her tauntings!" Lyra hissed.

"She's right!" said one of the guards, "We serve only as the shield of Eos Dawn. Tis Lady Lyra who is the sword, entrusted with delivering justice. Band together and defend!" The other squires nodded to each other and retook their arms. With the devils gone, perhaps they already stood a chance. All they needed was for Lyra to heal and return to combat.

"Geeze louise..." spoke the witch, muttering such strange words again, "If ya gonna be that way..."

Holding her dagger inversely, she stabbed downwards and ignited another flash of mana. Though instead of fiery red, what came out was a bloody scarlet.

_Oh no!_ said Myra, recognizing the nature of the magic that was now at work. It seemed that the flash from before was not all for show either.

"It's a trap! Shield your eyes!" she shouted before going pressing her chest against Lyra's face. At first Myra was confused but upon hearing the roar of her men, she felt dread take hold of her heart.

The defenders easily obeyed and hid behind their shields. Alas, that did not hide the surprise on their faces as the squires charged suicidally past their front. Their eyes burned with the same scarlet bewitchment.

The one in the middle took the lead and was the first to drive forward with his spear. Ashley saw it a mile away and just jumped towards him. Her knife raised while the spear only slid underneath.

She rammed it down the squire's shoulder and he let out an agonized cry. And like a hook, she forced him down and punched his gut with her gauntlet. Another swiftly followed and then a third before she straightened her fingers and skewered through his leather mail.

"GUAAAGH!" he croaked, gargling on his own blood before both claw and knife pulled out. A finale of flying gore followed as she kicked him back. A second spear thrust out at her right only for her to grab it with her steel fist. Her dagger lashed out to cleave off nearly a half.

The hapless squire grabbing it fell back from the sudden break. His flailed arms exposed the gut that she then plunged in with her knife. There was not even time for his death cry as she moved so fast. Her gauntlet clasped over his face and she rammed his full body into the comrade behind.

Pulling out her knife and spinning wildly, she crouched low and delivered a crippling slice to that comrade's knee. "AAAAG-!" he screamed before her gauntlet made for his throat. A single flex of her arm and he felt skull (and his life) shatter against a nearby wall.

The remaining two on the other side of the room charged on still. With cold eyes, she discarded her victim's corpse and launched it at them.

The two men fell under their dead comrade's weight and violently struggled to shove it off. Their weapons flew out and fell forgotten. The first squire that managed to rise up only had the privilege to resume rushing wildly while Ashley took her time approaching.

He lunged at her, bare-fisted but her gauntlet easily knocked his face upwards. Her knife followed with a fatal slash across his throat. And again with its momentum, she spun and sent the dead fool flying with a back kick.

As for the other, he went at her no differently. The claws of her gauntlet made short work of his face without so much as need to dodge his blows. His screams reverberated across the whole tombs while his hands clutched his mangled visage.

He felt that same claw grab behind his head and a shooting pain went up his spine from the knife that stabbed into it. But after that one moment, she snapped his neck and he felt pain no more. Ashley lifted up his lifeless corpse and threw it back at his horrified comrades.

"Okay... party's almost over." she said in a bored voice, "You're lucky I didn't go for you first..."

"You... monster!" Lyra decried, angrily getting to her feet and grabbing her sword. "Now you've sealed your fate! You have my word that I will not leave until I have avenged my men!"

"Watch it lady," Ashley warned, "cuz I'm about to give you a chance to take that shit back."

"What?"

"Keh," she snorted, "Your types call me a monster... well this 'monster' is just about to make you a quick, easy deal: Leave and I won't make mincemeat out of the rest of you. Fight me again... and you'll never see the light."

"Is that truly choice!?" Lyra roared and her men quickly stepped aside. Their gaze hardened with just as much refusal as hers. "You speak foolishness witch! If such is the case, then you already know my... no... OUR answer!"

Ashley gave a small smile but her eyes ominously hid under the shadow of her brow. "Well... suit yourself." was all she said.

Lyra held her sword bravely in front of her with the flat side facing forwards. "Myra... if anything happens, I want you to run." she whispered all of a sudden.

"What!?" said the squire. Yet before she could press for more, the knight already made her stance and charged. Again, her body filled with the blessings of her remaining allies.

A more maniacal grin appeared on Ashley's face and suddenly her blades burst with the smoky darkness of black mana.

She spun and swung the knife to her right, then swung again to the left. Her movements shaped the mana into bladed arcs.

Lyra continued to hold her guard up but only stopped when these blades flew past her. The split second of horrified revelation only afforded her one thing.

"AAAAARGGGH!"

Again, recklessness has doomed them all as the blades shattered the shields of her remaining guards. It broke their armor, pierced their ranks, and asides from Myra, they all perished. Despite the blood that spewed from their mouths, all that was left of their struck midsections was a blank void.

Without them, the blessings faded. All that remained was her sword and her cry for vengeance.

"YAAAAH!"

Red mana flared as a second knife appeared in the inversed grasp of Ashley's gauntlet. Both blades crossed as she held them up to meet the knight's blow.

The stance did not break despite Lyra's swift strike. On the contrary, its hardiness only moved against her as Ashley shoved the sword to the side. Undaunted, the knight swung again from that same angle, aiming for the witch's face. Her persistence was only met by Ashley's left blade rising up in her defense.

Ashley pushed against the sword and made her own counterattack. Her right leg whipped out and just barely missed Lyra's waist as the latter jumped back at that same moment.

Seeing her chance, the knight made to cut low only for Ashley to crouch. Her right knife swept down in a punching motion and blocked the blade.

Swiftly did she then grinded along its edge and rose. The blunt end of her left knife aimed straight for the hands that were reeling to pull the blade up.

**CLANG!**

Lyra's eyes were in shock. Her hands were free and the symbol of her conviction now sailed towards her right, far beyond reach. The witch's eyes flashed hungrily and raised both knives.

The tips of Ashley's daggers grazed over her shoulders but somehow did not pierce. Or rather, she had no intention to just yet and instead used them as grips to draw her dangerously close.

"Agh!" she happily snarled as she butted her head hard against Lyra's. The brunette reeled and white lights exploded in her vision. Her stomach soon followed as Ashley struck it with her knee.

She felt the knives give way and then another kick to her stomach. That would be the second time which she almost threw up. The third would be when she now laid on the ground with the blonde's foot slamming atop her belly to keep her pinned.

"AGH!" she cried. Her voice now less of a warrior and more of the maiden that she really was.

"Okay... that just leaves you kid." she heard her speak.

Ashley tossed her knives and caught them pointing straight towards Myra, "Your turn to make a choice. Be a good little bitch and run like she told you... or stay and stay trapped with her."

_Oh no... she heard?_ Lyra thought while her limp arms struggled to move.

"I... I know not what you speak witch!" Myra retorted. Her response stunned the knight with further despair.

_NO!_

"Oho puhleeze!" guffawed Ashley, "Who are you kidding with that? I saw it all on your faces. Your types are so easy to read..."

It was all too clear. Lyra saw no point in hiding and even less in avoiding the desperation that had been clawing her throughout their whole encounter.

The feeling charged her mind with will and her arms snapped into life, clamping themselves onto Ashley's leg.

"Myra please... run away..." the knight gasped as she held on tight.

"No! As your subordinate, I cannot abandon you!" Myra protested as she drew out her own little saber.

"And as your sister, I cannot bear to see harm come to you!" the knight snapped back only for her eyes to widen at the words that escaped her lips.

"Oh... _that's_ it huh?" she heard Ashley note, "You two sisters? Man, an entire brigade and they're only you two girls. Damn, it's like straight out of some fantasy porno..."

"MYRA RUN! I BEG YOU"

"NEVER!" the younger one screamed as she charged, "Hold her fast sister! We shall slay her together!"

The witch just rolled her eyes as she knocked aside the easily foreseen thrust. Her eyes quickly switched down to Lyra and her free foot whipped against the side of her head. Its lashing force was all it took to finally sink her consciousness.

"No... Myra..." the knight moaned as she felt her vision fading. Myra's angry grunts and clash of blades soon gave way to helpless cries. The last note that her saber sung was the same as that of her fallen sword.

But at that last moment, before her eyes fully sunk in darkness, she saw Myra's face collapse right before hers. Tears were still in her eyes and her breathing was just as pained.

"Got the wrong idea there girl... I'm gonna have fun with the _both_ of you... hehehehe.."

Lyra couldn't tell how long it was before her mind slowly floated awake. Darkness still blanketed her vision for the most part. The only thing tangible her clouded mind could make out was the feeling of binds wrapped around her wrists. Her arms felt lifted up on either side.

Moments later, sound followed. The movements of her arms rattled with the clink of metal chains but they in turn only heralded another sound.

"Aaah! Aah! Aaaah! AAAAH!"

The knight woke to the sound of moaning, her sister's moaning, and her eyes sprang open widely. But looking to her left, her eyes met only a horrid sight.

There her sister lay, her chain mail torn with her tabard and scattered over the cold floor. Her thighs were bare while the rest of her legs were now clad only in the remnants of her boots and tattered rings.

Both were raised high by the witch. The latter's head was buried deep in an area that Lyra would warrant death for so much as glancing.

Yet, she could only watch in horror as the whore's tongue savored her sister's virgin womanhood.

"MYRAAA!" she screamed and made to lunge at the demon wench only to find herself helplessly chained to the wall.

"Aaah... aaah! Sister... help me..." Myra whimpered as Ashley plunged her tongue deep and her back arched from the intrusion, "Hwaah!" Ashley smiled as she then lovingly sucked along her smooth folds, lapping up the juices that trickled out. The hard, long lick she followed this with elicited her loudest cry and a flood of nectar splashed her face. The girl's boot-clad legs twitched and her back arched, almost offering her pussy to Ashley's hungering mouth.

Lyra pulled against her chains furiously even though she felt more helpless each time. Her eyes now have been blinded both by rage and tears. "LET HER GO! I WILL NOT HAVE YOU SOIL HER!"

"Too late for that girlfriend." said Ashley as she grabbed the chain of Myra's manacles that were hanging from a hook on the wall. With it, she dragged the squire and hung her binds on another hook upon the wall chaining her sister. A small stream of tears poured down her cheeks but her eyes were now glazed, no doubt lost in the oblivion of what has been done to her.

The knight gritted her teeth and struggled to strike once she felt the abominable harlot was nearer enough. Ashley just grinned, her face still gleaming with Myra's juices, before kicking the woman hard in the gut.

The force knocked the wind (and the fight) temporarily out of her, sending her back on her rear. And despite how her will raced to get back on her feet, it wasn't fast enough to stop a spiked gauntlet from grabbing her chin.

Tilting upwards, she thought she was being forced to look up only to find Ashley's head descending. Her eyes closed as her lips forced upon hers in a smooth but deep kiss.

The woman's eyes widened, not simply from the kiss but from how Ashley's tongue mercilessly circulated the taste of her sister's juices inside her mouth.

"MMFF!" Lyra roared but it came out only as a throaty moan. The feel of that witch's tongue exploring freely sickened her and it was only more so when her buds noted the sweetness of Myra's taste. Ashley pulled back slighly with only her tongue's tip touching hers only to devour her lips again. Her breath gleefully but slowly sucked up hers.

A thick string of saliva stretched when they parted at last. Lyra was too disgusted to speak and her eyes were now as glazed as her sister's.

With a grin, Ashley's gauntlet slammed against the bosom of Lyra's plate and the latter's eye sprang back to life. She felt heat sizzling from the tips of the clawed fingers and made to wrench it off.

To her dismay, the only thing that wrenched was Ashley's hand as it tore the plate off and exposed the softer chainmail concealing her breasts. The armor shattered and tore like it was mere pottery.

"Your turn..." she whispered while Myra took a sharp intake of breath. This was followed by the sound of snapping mail. What little band of cloth she wore underneath easily ripped to shreds. Hungrily did Ashley rip it some more, pulling back, and tossing away her pauldrons.

Grabbing her bare shoulders, Lyra shivered at their cold touch whether it came from a guantlet's steel or her icy left hand. Ironically, there was only heat in Ashley's breath as she lovingly sucked on her left nipple.

"HGGUH!" groaned Lyra, finding it more difficult to suppress her cries. The other hand ministrated the right breast. They squeezed, they rotated, and groped. Her gauntlet quickly wrapped around her waist so as to bring their bodies closer. Her tongue only enjoyed more of Lyra's buds.

"St-stop... please..." the knight finally sobbed. Her mind now resorting to prayer. And no matter how she prayed, no angel of Asha seemed to hear. Was this why her sister now fell easily to despair?

"Hey now... we're just getting started..." said Ashley, moving back to Myra. The poor girl only shook her head and cried as she had her own mail torn off. Her chest was not as sizable but they had a round firmness that shaped well along with her figure.

The shortness of her stature also made it enticing as Ashley forced her to straddle her waist, sit slightly above her, and helping herself to her bosoms.

"Waaaah!" she whined but Ashley kept on. Her armored hand kept its firm hold on her back while her bare one stroked her so that she would rise up in a rocking manner.

After violating the left and salivating the right, Ashley left the girl still twitching from her last hormonal bombardment. The tips of her gauntlet now diving straight for Lyra's faulds.

She did not even wince this time but simply closed her eyes bitterly. She could feel the heating of metal return and the belt binding the steel plates snap off. Its clanging resounded across the dark hallway as if loudly declaring that it was not needed anymore. Whatever mail found underneath was peeled off like the wrapping of a much desired gift.

Ashley breathed out haggardly before finally removing her gauntlet. It was getting too cumbersome when the only thing that stood in her way now was but a piece of white cloth.

Instead of the shelled arm however, both parted her legs as Lyra had a sudden surge to make one more resistance. Grinning wolfishly, the witch buried her nose and basked in the scent and warmth that apparently drenched the cloth.

"Look at ya..." she commented, "You fought so hard... gotten this far... but in the end, you really can't resist can ya?"

Ashley didn't look up but she knew that Lyra understood. She also wouldn't need to look up to see the most hateful stare a Bant knight could give.

"Your sister was the same too... " she added, taking another whiff, "You two smell so alike... both in denial."

Lyra stiffened, showing she would fight to her last but Ashley only had this to say, "And now... you both are mine."

The blonde's head dove for the cloth, the fabric clenching between her teeth, and soon sent its shreds flying. The second motion only served to dig right in.

No scream came from Lyra's mouth when it finally happened. There was only a gasp and a single tear that fell down her flushed cheek. Everything else was dominated by an intoxicating heat that rose with Ashley's hearty licks and oral penetration.

She found the knight's flavor as perfect as predicted: it complimented her sister's.

Both had long lost track of time at this point. Neither could tell if Lyra's torture lasted for five minutes or fifteen. The only thing for sure was the Ashley enjoyed her new slaves.

That and of course, the rising haze in her mind showed that it was her turn to fall.

Ashley parted her legs and with a breathless heave, she hoisted the knight's strong thighs over her shoulders. Her mouth deeper into her than before and her tongue working much faster."

"Aah... ahh.." she slowly began to moan. The feeling of only air behind her back and her arms stretched by chains just heightened her shame. The shame turned into more of the haze while the witch licked up before going side-to-side

Suddenly it grew rougher as she gripped more tightly. She could feel her mouth sucking up as much of the juices and the walls as she could. Her hips were beginning to thrust out on their own along with the cries that escaped her lips.

"Haaah...Haaa... Haaa... AAAH... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH" she screamed at last. The witch's eyes only looked up in bliss as Lyra's flow washed across her anticipating tongue. The knight's legs locked around her head, desperate to give it all.

Ashley was only glad to oblige, simply happy to once again have savored another knight. She could feel the twitching of her walls squeezing out.

"And now... to top this off real good..." she whispered while fumbling with the button of her shorts. The leather slipped, slid, and fell. A thick undergarment with tight bands followed. Her one hand conjured back her knife while the other grabbed a hold of Myra's chains.

Ashley slammed the knife into the wally above Lyra's arms. Myra herself was still dizzied by her previous climax to note how the knife became her binds new hanging place. It was only seconds later that she could feel the warmth of another woman's body against hers. The sensation of feverish skin mixed awkwardly with the feel of steel rubbing against steel.

She nearly not noticed that her body was now atop her sister's and her chains were bound in between hers. The tingle of her womanhood touching Lyra's sent her into a panic.

The blonde grinned as she had one hand on Myra's buttock to hold her in place. Fpr her, the sight of two women's folds dripping close to each other was irresistible. And long without restraint, she parted their tangle of legs and tasted the both of them.

"Aaah!"

"Auuugh..."

From Lyra's firmness at the bottom to Myra's dripping, fresh blossom, Ashley's mouth traveled. Their groans and gasps pressed her onwards. Her tongue darted skilfully into each one several times before finally pulling away for breath.

While heaving, one hand reached to grab Myra's hair and direct her head to face her sister's.

"Kiss." she ordered. Myra's lips quivered and she felt that it was now her turn to be fully aware whilst the other was lost in the pit of disgrace.

Her resistance would have been noble had Lyra not suddenly snapped and kissed her. "Mmff!?" she cried and cried even louder once the knight's tongue broke into her mouth. The warmth of both shame and lust mixed together in a potent mix that then dizzied her as well. No matter what she did, resistance all seemed so futile and deep down, she only hungered for her sister's lips.

That didn't mean Ashley just watched but went back to time her own fellatio to the sisters' incest. With each lick and stroke she would have one pussy grind against the other. It started forced at first but gradually became a more natural reaction as she drank up more of their nectar.

"All right... it's time..." she breathlessly announced, her mouth lathered in their cum. The two women parted and looked to her wearily just as she was conjuring something again.

This time both red and black mana swirled around her compressed palms and became a crimson shape when they parted. The aether thickened into rough, scarlet bumps and blunt spikes of a demon's horn.

This one was indeed oddly-formed. On one end was a long blunt shaft about several inches. But branching it were two similar shafts. All three ends only curved in one direction: upwards.

Lyra and Myra just stared fearfully at the object, wondering if it was some sacrificial knife (but again, perhaps only death can liberate them now). It wasn't until Ashley dove the single shaft deep into her folds did they pick up a terrifying hint.

"Mmmm..." she moaned while the object made that wondrous sound of sliding into her wet hole. She twirled it. She thrust it. Every time it flowed her with blissful warmth, indicated by the dark glow it gave.

"No, please! Anything but that!" begged Myra as the witch moved closer. Her arms strained excruciatingly as they remained held up to the wail.

"I beg you, take only me! Spare my sister!" Lyra screamed but she could already feel Myra's legs pushed to straddle hers. Her back was shoved down so that she could only see her terrified face.

"You had your chance to beg. You already made your choice." Ashley whispered coldly, "Accept it!"

Pain exploded in both their minds. The two shafts speared through and they screamed.

"AAAAAAGH!"

"NOOOO!"

Both their bodies stiffened and their mouths gritted their teeth. Another cry escaped their lips as Ashley thrust deeper. The younger sister kneaded her head against the older just to bear.

"Ugh.. gggh!"

"Aaaugh! Aaah! Aaah!" Lyra cried as the shaft tore something most sacred to her. Its blood trickled down from her nether lips, mixing with the blood that came from Myra's. And with that, they lost all hope of ever consecrating it.

"Oh yeah..." Ashley huffed as she thrusted relentlessly. Each time she moved, the demon horn would dive deep into her and in turn dive deep into them. At times, she would rock slowly, not so much as to ebb their pain but to savor the feel. Other times she would gain a tempo and have them rock with her.

Slowly but surely, their resistance finally broke. Myra's hips begin to move down to meet her violator and rub against her sister. Meanwhile Lyra's legs thrust up needily to meet hers and grind against her squire.

"That's right... give in... give up..." Ashley whispered with delight as she saw a mark slowly appear on their foreheads: a devil's head with small horns. A similar symbol then appeared on Ashley's but this one's horns were larger and more regal.

"Aaaah... ooooh..."

"Uugghh... huwah..."

The two kissed again and now with the passion that Ashley had been breaking them so eagerly to see. It wasn't long before she too felt began to feel the warmth that was building inside them all.

She moaned along with them, going higher, and higher. Her thrusts went rapid and her hands stroked lovingly over Myra's back. "All right... together." she said.

The two did not speak but their movements show they heard. Their voices echoed into a chorus of lust across the tomb. Their pitch rising with the overwhelming wave.

"AAAGH"

Yet instead with a long cry, they throats stopped it midway. Their bodies twitched too strongly and their voice just could next express the sheer power of their climax.

Ashley pulled out and then drew out the horn from her. The two ends still glistened red with virgin blood. One could even see a faint haze of smoke as the horn slowly absorbed it within herself.

That did not stop her from a having a few good licks herself. More the than that, she took one end and deep-throated it.

The red flavor of lost innocence tasted mildly like cherry. The blood was clearly Lyra's: well matured and opened just in time.

Her tongue slid along the other shaft, its blood flooded her buds with the sweetness of berry and cream. This was a younger sister's blood in every way.

The witch snapped her wrist and two small bottles appeared in her hands with parchment labels. With the single end as a handle, she squeezed and blood soon came oozing forth from the other shaft. Its contents dripped and filled up a whole bottle. The same was done for the other bottle. The eeriest part was that the horn neither compressed or expanded but remained solid throughout the transaction.

Looking at the bottles, red lettering flared across the parchment. Each one spelled out their respective girl's name.

"With this... you two are officially my bitches..." she quietly declared but gave an unusually kind smile as the two sisters laid heaving on top of each other. Their eyes were blank but the tension they had was no more. Instead of unconsciousness, only sleep took them.

"Don't worry... even in the dark, you have forever remained... as sisters." were the last words they heard her speak.

Both the bottles and the horn vanished in red smoke. Standing up, Ashley lifted off her top, revealing no bra but only a bare and busty pair of mounds. Her hand went to wipe the sweat from her brow before setting to work. Manacles were unlatched, mail and armor were stripped, and in moments both were as nude as she was. Slipping in between them, she smiled as Myra unconsciously pressed against the side of her chest like a child while Lyra's head snuggled up to her neck as if they were long-time lovers. Eventually, the witch's own eyes closed as she resumed her nap.

Two hours later, Ashley woke and from the feel of their breathing, she concluded that it would still be awhile before they rouse as well.

She stood up and made her way down the narrow room until she reached a cell door. Her hand went to down to pick up and slip on her panties on the way.

Tapping it with her finger, the door unlocked and opened into a dark chamber. With a whisk of her hand, torches flared all across the walls and flooded the place with firelight.

A circular bed lay at the far end and the woman's mind briefly pondered on more debaucheries she could engage with her newly-acquired slaves. But with a sober smile, she did not turn back. There was only so much she get out of tormenting slave girls when they were exhausted. Furthermore, much preparation is still required.

The bed in question was in fact makeshift. Formerly, it was a round altar of stone that she stumbled upon and was previously laden with an ample display of treasures. Obviously, she couldn't bear to let them gather more dust. Out of kindness, she relieved it of its priceless burden and replaced it with the lighter contents of stolen beddings, ragged cushions, and of course, the occasional Sapphic orgy.

As for the treasures, she made use them the same way she always had. Half went in pursuit of personal pleasures while the other for higher ambitions.

She went and picked up a torch before walking to the left side of the room. The yellow light faintly revealed a short but dark corridor. At its end, she found herself in an embalming chamber (or at least that was what it was she she found it).

Instead of bodies, there were now scattered plates on the embalming table on the left wall. And instead of bandages and preservatives, the barrels inside the room were filled with supplies. Food. Drink. A spot to put a campfire in the center. Anything else Ashley would need from a kitchen was now stored here.

She swung the torch and the fire at its tip leapt towards the pile of ashened campfire ignited and she promptly tossed the extinguished handle towards the table.

Striding towards the table, she pulled up a stool at its far right end stuck her hand in the barrel next to ti. There was the clink of glass as she pulled out an emerald green wine bottle. With one thumb, she popped the cork and let the cool sweetness wash down her throat. Snapping her free wrist, the two bottles puffed into her hand again and she delightfully placed them on the table. Placing the larger bottle down, her chin rested on her hands as she playfully read the names of her two new sex slaves.

"So you were here."

Ashley's body froze before slowly sitting up, "Rachel..." she said, recognizing the light, Victorian drawl as she turned around, "Didn't know you were in town."

A shorter girl now stood across the campfire. Its flames reflected ominously in her scarelt eyes. Her own blond hair was not only a brighter shade of yellow but it was much longer too. Her twin tails reached nearly all the way to the floor and bound by ribbons that pointed up. Their odd position and shape almost resembled rabbit ears.

Her clothes also contrasted, given that she actually wore them. Her top was a black blouse, with frills of white lace at the sleeves and the hem. A matching mantle draped over her shoulders and tied by a large, red ribbon tied over her slender chest. The skirt below was short but also bore the same color and frills. Though round the back, Ashley could clearly make out the red, bat-like wings folded at their side. She also noted the red, inverted crosses that were stitched on two sides at the front.

The only skin that she showed were the thighs that peeked beneath her skirt. The rest was covered in black stocking and ended in feet that wore silver, platform heels.

"Is that so?" Rachel replied, "I find that odd given that I have been here longer."

"Really? Didn't notice." said Ashley.

"You never do." spoke another girl's voice.

The source came from the corridor but when it showed itself, Ashley could never help mistaking her for a little boy.

She dressed in a _changshan_ of red with large, blue cuffs. A matching Mandarin cap nearly swallowed the top of her small head. Though speaking of small, she clearly did not rank in the height department. Her black braids were as nearly as long as Rachel's in terms of proportion. If that wasn't enough, the glasses before her brown eyes were as big as coasters.

"Lien?" said a blinking Ashley before looking between her and Rachel several times. "Okay, what do two bitches want?" she then asked wearily before taking another swig of wine.

"A little more respect would be a start." Lien snapped in slightly accented voice, "Did you forget that little errand you sent me on?"

Ashley gave her a surprised look. "Done already? That was fast." she said with a grin.

"Don't get me wrong." said Lien as she went closer next to her and leaned against the table, "I did it because the sooner I finish business with you, the better."

"Hehe... alright then..." Ashley said with chuckle before looking to Rachel, "And you?"

"I simply followed her here." answered the lolita, "The territories under Bant have been on high alert lately. I suspected that you had something to do with it. Quite frankly, it has been quite bothersome."

"That all?" Ashley questioned a bit more seriously, "Didn't tell you anything else?"

"Would it matter if she did?" Rachel answered, "I thought we would be on familiar terms by now Ashley. Whatever happens in your plane is no concern of mine. What _does_ concern me is how long do you plan on staying in this one."

"What's the matter? I figured you always liked it when I stir up trouble." Ashley teased, "It gives you a good excuse to join in... Oh wait, I haven't been stealing all the good ones from ya have I?"

"Do not flatter yourself Ashley," Rachel replied coldly, "All my servants here are neither within your influence nor reach. The only thing I seek on this plane is solitude and rest."

"Riiiight..." said the witch with a devilish smile, "Yeah well, if you want rest... I got a bed and two new bitches to share."

"Whilst I appreciate your gesture." said Rachel in a voice that was more bored than grateful, "Don't you and Lien have something to discuss?"

Ashley turned back to Lien with an expectant look, "So, what they say?" she asked.

"I gave my acquaintances the 'heads up' like you asked but unlike you, they don't see as much trouble in the Order's increased activities." the girl while grumpily crossing her arms.

"Whoa now, troubled?" said Ashley with a raised brow, "Don't remember using that word."

"Oh all right then... _I'm_ troubled." Lien bitterly admitted, "They don't share _my_ worries. There, I said it. That better? You happy now?"

The devil witch burst out into laughter and gently patted Lien's hat. "Li-Li, sweetie, maybe the reason that they don't is cuz they don't _really _know what's got the Order's little beehive buzzing." she explained, "_You_ do. I don't think I need to tell ya to figure out the obvious."

"And what would that be?" asked Rachel.

Ashley gave a more serious look and stood up. "I'm going back to my world." she calmly announced before glancing at the flames, "I've gotten out. Had some fun. Finally gave myself what I deserved. Now I'm heading back... and settle my scores."

"Is that so? What a relief then." she replied but the smile she had seemed to show more than relief. It showed amusement and intrigue, "So you have at last made your decision..."

"Heh, I already did make it girl." Ashley corrected, "I just needed some time off first. I still got a little bit more left too... If you wanna share..."

"You know I'm standing here right?" said a disgusted Lien.

"You can join too if you want." Ashley suggested with an eerily bright smile, "It's been awhile since I've had a five-way."

The little Chinese girl simply slapped her palm over her face. "I don't know why I even bother." she muttered before heading back to the corridor.

"So... where you headed, really?" she heard Ashley ask. "Where else?" Lien replied, "I'm heading back before you. I've gotta get myself ready for whatever trouble you will be bringing."

"It seems you really have everything in order." Rachel noted, "Your revenge must truly be such an imperative."

"Ya think?" scoffed Ashley before taking up the wine bottle and drinking again.

"Hell you could say my little vacay here is just kept prepping me up for it." she added, "Everything... from screwing knight bitches, killin' armies, and setting up cribs like this... it's all just a little preview of what I got in store for the Order."

"Interesting." said Rachel, "Yet as I recall, the knights whom you have enslaved have no ties with the Order."

"Really? Can't tell." she sarcastically replied, "They're all the same... pretending to fight for what's right but don't really give a shit about who they're stepping on."

"To think they had me fooled." she continued and emptied the wine with a final draft. Her face still barely ruddy. "All I wanted was to live my life freely and left alone. But no... they didn't want that. They wanted to use me... They wanted what I had and lied to my face just to get it. Those girls and their poss were no different. The only _real_ difference is that I don't take that shit anymore."

"I suppose the choice you offer is a kindness then?" Rachel pondered before strolling towards the corridor's entrance.

"Their last chance." Ashley affirmed, "Too bad the Order won't have any left once I get back..."

Even as she woke, Lyra's head burned so badly that she thought her consciousness would slip down again. Images both titillating and tortuous swirled in her head that it took minutes before she was aware of her open eyes.

Looking down, she saw herself covered in a cloak but did not feel as nude as she anticipated. She removed the dark green, cloth concealing her body and saw the light traveler's clothing underneath. There were pants of dark brown and boots of black. Her shirt was a plain, poet blouse.

She stood up and realized that she was rested on the side of the barren hill. Not too far off, there was the entrance to the tomb. Up above, the sun shone in cloudless sky but the air still had the coolness of a new morning.

What had happened? Has she been liberated? Better yet, were the terrible memories flashing in her mind were only of a horrendous nightmare? What became of her men? What of Myra? Where was she?

Thoughts of her sister quickly raced afterwards (especially when the events were too horrible to recall). To her sweet relief, she found her lying next to her and dressed in the same manner.

One second later, that relief was dashed when something burned in her forehead. "Agh!" she cried, disgusted to hear it was a maiden's that came out and no longer the knight.

_Wakey wakey Sleeping Beauty_... whispered a sultry voice in her mind (and one that she had grown all too familiar with in a single night), _That's right... you're out... but only cuz I'm letting you both off till then._

"Wh... what are you..." she gasped and a moaned as a sensuous warmth spread from her core.

_I'll get to the point... I won't be here for a while but I'll be back._ Ashley explained, _And when I' do.. I'll be calling for ya. Both of ya. No doubt this here's already proof that you can't do shit about it._

_Heh... and what would you have us do until then? _Lyra replied, somewhat surprised by both her own sardonic tone and the fact that she spoke them through her mind, _You've broken us. My men are dead. We have nowhere to go. _

_Relax... I've got it covered._ Ashley replied, _Don't think you're the only one I got wrapped around my finger here._

_Wh... what do you mean?_ Lyra asked with a sinking heart.

_I mean I've already got friends in high places..._

This answer came with not just words but images of countless women. Lyra was not sure which she found more frightening: the fact that they came from all across the Shards or that she instantly recognized a handful of them.

_No... it can't be... Captain... Major!? And, no... impossible... you have corrupted even the angels!?_

_Yep_ Ashley answered_, And like you... they all made the same, lame-ass decision. But enough of that... good news is they all know you're mine now. Why don't you two get to know each other mm'kay? At least your sister's smart enough to just give up and let her new Master take care of things..._

Lyra looked down at the sleeping Myra and her mind morosely repeated, _You have not really answered my question. What will you have us do?_

_Oh? What's this? Learning to take orders again huh? That's nice... nice... _Ashley complemented, _I'm sending one of the angels and her partner to pick you two up. She'll tell you the rest... now... I gotta go._

If there was anything remotely called hope left in the knight's heart, it crumbled in the last sentence. Last night's ordeal was no nightmare. She and Myra had lost and with that loss, they had forfeited the seven years of devotion, piety, and chivalry for a day that will no longer come.

But most devastating of all was the she now felt the weight of both their choices. They _chose_ to fight against this witch of unfathomable power. They _chose_ the consequence of violation and slavery. The only thing that confounded her mind was how could a mere wandering cultist possess such strength.

_What... are you?_ she finally asked.

Ashley's voice replied (and surprised the knight who thought she had already gone).

_You've heard of my kind before... beings with the power to travel between worlds. And with that power, they can gain all the magics of the Multiverse._

Clearly, Lyra did. It all then made sense and at the same time, the way it dawned upon her brought a lump up her throat.

_That's right... I am a Planeswalker.I_

The burning sensation faded. The voice had vanished and all that was left were two slave girls on the hills, waiting for their fellow escort.

Ashley stretched with a grin as she laid back once again in her favorite spot between the sarcophagi. That last little transmission officially settled everything she had to do on Alara. Rachel will handle everything else.

She closed her eyes and simply relaxed. Her mind seemingly diving back into sleep just like the night before.

Yet this time, she dove deeper and deeper. Her will extended further beyond sleep. It went beyond the borders of this very reality.

Color flooded her mind and she felt the rush of mana once she penetrated the veil. And upon opening her eyes, there she stood floating in the chaos of the Blind Eternities. Red. Black. Green. White. Blue. They were all there and they all threatened to consume her but she only embraced their chaos.

The witch dove through this pandemonium and went straight without thought until she felt an all too familiar mana bond. She chased it, like a cat would chase and old favorite toy. The colors of all five mana soon parted for an all consuming light.

She opened her eyes to the blare of horns. Her lips curved into a smile as she was where she intended to be.

The room had many windows but all were boarded up. From the stench, she could really tell that she was gone for more than just a year. Old papers and trash scattered about the concrete floor. Here and there, she could still see some of the beer cans that she drunk from that time.

Peeking through the gaps in the window boards, she had a glimpse of the streets below. Cars and trucks rumbled along while people strolled the sidewalks in throngs. The sun shone up, close to midday, and looks like a lot were going out for lunch.

Maybe she should too.

"I'm hoooome..." she whispered with a sneaky grin.

She walked over to the door only to find it boarded up as well, much to her annoyance. In an instant, her leg jabbed and the door flew off in two, crude halves along with the splinters of shattered planks. The hallway outside was desolate and full of other boarded doors. It didn't look like this place had much time left. Turning right, she found the stairs and took her time going down. The lobby at the bottom was hardly in a better state than the floors above. Thick dust caked the once smooth, ivory tiles and others were in fragments in some corners. No doubt earlier demolition attempts were made but as usual they all ended up half-assed.

Ashley picked up one of these shards and stepped to the center of the lobby. Its sharp edge ran over the skin of her bare hand before nipping her index. She didn't even wince from pain and knelt over one tile. With that finger, she signed something in blood and the resulting symbol burned with a scarlet light.

Her gauntlet reached down but instead of scratching tile surface, it only sifted through symbol and all. It was if that bit of floor was no more than a trick of the eyes. One could see it but it was not really there.

The young woman rummaged about, reaching deeper until the faux tile was up to her elbow. Finally, she stopped and quickly pulled out a large, leather sports bag of black. Its contents were quite sparse for the container's size.

Standing up, she flicked a metal finger and a red spark flashed at the tip. Suddenly her runed boots vanished in a swirl of red aether as with her shorts. Her gauntlet burst into flame before following suit. Nearly nude she reached down and started slipping on what was inside.

First was the black panties that bore lace similar to lingerie. A matching jacket came next and she zipped it up, concealing her top. The last to come on were a pair of denim shorts and a beanie. Both were colored in shades of green camouflage.

All that was left was a pair of brown, hiking boots which were tame compared to the enchanted ones she wore coming in.

She smartly pulled on the hem of her beanie and strapped the bag over. A content smile was on her face as she walked out the back door.

The alleys were filthy as usual and the trash bins didn't look like they weren't picked up in ages. Ashley reached for the end of her sports bag and unzipped a small pocket. Inside was a black cellphone. Its model looked badly out of date but she knew damn well what it could really do. Her fingers instantly went for three to four buttons before putting it to her ear. The drone of a ringtone hummed while she stepped out. Her person now fully lost within the city's modern masses.

A disgruntled voice growled as someone picked up. "Hey, it's me." Ashley answered and the voice grumbled some more. "Looks like Li-Li told you huh? Kay... see ya at the usual place." she said.

"Welcome to McDonald's, can I take your order?"

"Just a Big Mac and a Diet Coke please..."

The smell of fast food was not as foreign as she thought but she still wondered how long it was since she last had it. As usual, the whole place was jam-packed with all sorts. There were workers, moms with kids, and the occasional senior citizen. Picking up her tray, she went straight for the emptiest corner table and waited.

The good thing was she didn't have to for long. Barely a few bites into her burger and already someone suddenly stepped closed to her table.

"That was fast." she said.

"Yeah well I got a tight schedule toots." said the stranger, "Let's get this over with."

She didn't know what drew more attention: The fedora and trench coat get-up that looked straight out of _Inspector Gadget_ or the fact that she was talking to someone barely three feet tall.

He had an unusually sharp nose for a midget and his teeth looked quite feral too. If his skin was green instead of regular beige, she'd have taken him for a goblin.

"'Toots'?" she repeated with chuckle, "Man, look at you. Barely four years here and you picked up that much. I still can't believe ya Sam."

Sam raised his fedora before sitting down. His green eyes gave Ashley a sharp gleam before giving a crooked grin.

"Eh, I had help. You being number one." he said, "But even if you're my number one girl, it ain't enough to give you any more of mah time right now. Think you're the only one with the Order on their fuckin' tail?"

"Right, right..." she said before reaching into her bag, "I got more of these stashed up but I'm guessing a five of 'em will get my by a couple of days?"

"Keeping tabs on the exchange too huh?" Sam noted.

"No duh, this is me we talkin' about remember?" she answered while handing something over to him. The little man had to reach out with both hands to catch and conceal what was falling. Five gold coins the size of biscuits chinked into his palms.

Sam hid them under the table and counted to make sure before sliding them into his coat. "I gotta be frank Ash, do I really need to be here? How the hell did you even buy yourself a Big Mac?" he asked before taking out a wad of bills began to count.

"Didn't have as much as you think when I got here. Gold's all I really got right now." she explained, "'Sides. If I'm gonna be staying a while, I might as well."

"Yeah well, ya lucky that gold's still the multiversal currency right now doll." said Sam before getting off to leave, "You still waiting for somebody?"

"Kinda." she replied while going back to press a few more buttons on her phone.

"See ya around then."

Barely half an hour after that and Ashley's second visitor had arrived.

"Whoa, I'm sorry... this a bad time?" she asked with a sneer.

"Oh no. I was getting tired of my shop being in one piece." Lien sarcastically replied. A red bandana with some obscure Chinese character was on her head while the rest of her was dressed in even more boyish cleaning outfit. And of all colors, it had to be the janitorial blue.

"Aww... just twelve hours and how I already missed you Li-Li." Ashley cooed as it was the girl sat next to her. A laptop was in her hands which she then placed for both of them to view.

"Are you done harassing me?" Lien put bluntly. Her finger tapped scrolled the mouse pad as the desktop screen popped up, "Sam's not the only one without a lot of time."

"Fine. I get it." she said but maintained her grin as she eyed the windows that Lien was opening.

"And by the way?" the little girl added, "I still don't do things for free."

"Don't worry I got your money right here." she said, handing her five bucks.

Lien quickly snatched it, counted with a glance, but then replied, "10 dollars."

"You're kidding right?"

"I told you before-" Lien firmly asserted.

"Aw, c'mon." Ashley protested with a pout, "Is it really worth keeping them a secret?"

"Since you're here and the Order's on the hunt? I would say, yes." she whispered with a hiss. "Besides, you of all people should understand why my connections value their _privacy_."

Sighing, the witch handed the other five bucks. "Can't argue with that then." she said.

Lien clicked what appeared to be just your typical computer icon. The name underneath was not so spectacular either: W.

A window popped up with a black screen but soon the left side was flooded with column of white text. On it was a list of names, alphabetically arranged.

"Uh, Li-Li... that's a little bit much. I only asked you about what? Seven, eight people?" Ashley said.

"I'm getting to it." Lien answered while getting a drop down menu and clicking on a few more soon as she pressed 'Enter', the list blinked and now only a fairly short list.

"Here."

The witch grinned as her eyes skimmed through some of the names. A few were familiar. The rest were not. But either way, she had plans for all of them.

"Now... let's see their faces." she said as her hand took over the mouse pad. A click of her own and the whole thing switched into a different view. The list had gone and in its place was a grid arrangement of different pictures. Each was a full-body shot and each looked stolen as well. (That or perhaps they didn't really care as it was Lien taking them.) Their names remained as labels underneath.

The first was a boy with crimson eyes. His raven hair was more short than a complete bob but two bangs on the sides of his face had the pointedness of one. Judging from his black uniform, he was obviously a Japanese kid. The background looked like the corridor to his school while late in the afternoon.

The second was a girl with wavy ginger hair and blue eyes. She had her back to the camera but her face could easily be seen as her head was turned around. A pair of red glasses tilted slightly to match her confused expression. Her stylish jeans contrasted with the books in her arms and the thick, green turtleneck.

Third was another young man and looked closer to Ashley's age. His eyes shone with unnatural green light. A red hoodie was draped over his head, with only the spiky tips of his brown hair sticking out from under. A ragged, pair of cargoes began at his waist and ended in a pair of unusual pair of bronze roller blades.

Fourth was the second girl in the list. Her uniform also looked Japanese. (The skirt was short enough anyways.) Her blue hair was tied in two buns that oddly resembled mouse ears. Both the skirt and her vest were a pale gray with a black ribbon placed as a bowtie. Long were her socks while her sneakers matched her hair.

A little boy was in the fifth picture. Dressed in a white shirt and blue overalls, he would've looked quite childish compared to the rest were it not for the strange tools coming out of his pocket: Scalpels. Spanners. Screwdrivers. Behind his large, black glasses was a pair of brown eyes that stared back at the camera with a scheming grin.

The sixth was a girl no older than the boy. A microphone was in her hand and it looked like she was singing in a concert of some sorts. She wore a puffy mini-skirt of emerald green and a white, sleeveless blouse with flower shaped buttons. Speaking of which, two white flower-shaped hair clips dotted either side of her short, green hair.

Finally, the fifth showed a young woman. Most likely in her teens, she had a cold outlook all over her. Her white hair tied into a loose braid by a red ribbon. Her hazel brown eyes sharply snapped at the camera as if she just caught the shot. Her simple attire of white blouse and long, black skirt didn't make her any less intimidating.

"So this is her huh?" said Ashley, clicking the last picture widened to a larger size and covered the rest. A text detailing her profile rapidly typed itself downwards.

"'Tessa Rovere.'" she read before scanning the rest with a smirk, "The Order's new bitch hound."

"Don't underestimate her." Lien warned, "She had already attacked another one of my associates. Granted, he had her running but she gave a fight for sure."

"Hehe, she can wait... pretty cute too." Ashley assured while the tip of her tongue deviously slid between her lips, "Gotta save the best for last... now for the rest of 'em..."

"I'm sure you already recognize some..." Lien said.

"Yeah... I'll start with this guy." she said in a more serious tone, drawing the cursor over the first picture.

"Why am I not surprised?" said Lien, "Are you dropping by the shop later?"

"Why? Thought you wanted to keep it in one piece?" Ashley answered with a mischievous grin.

"That's why I'm asking." said Lien, "I'll know if I need to run back."

The girl closed the program and shut down the laptop. But before she could get up and leave, a powerful tug snagged her by the wrist.

"Not so fast there girlfriend... You forgetting something?" Ashley asked with an unusually bright smile.

The little Chinese gave her a puzzled look but thought for a moment and then sighed. "Oh... that." Freeing her hand, she extended it right in front of the blonde's face.

"Now that's going too far." Ashley hissed as her smile reversed into a scowl.

"No... asking me to watch over that thing for years was going too far." Lien icily replied.

"You were doing that for me as a favor." the blond countered.

Lien dropped her hand instantly. "Ugh... you remembered. Damn you." she grumbled to which Ashley only chuckled. The former dug into her pocket and pulled out a single car key.

"I'm guessing you already know where it is huh?" she said, tossing Ashley the key.

"Hell yeah..."

Ashley spent the next hour getting across the city. Riding trains, catching buses, and simply seeing all the LEDs and billboards around gave her the nostalgia that only this world could provide.

By the end, she had already arrived at the wired gates of the local junkyard. The size of it could've span the whole of a normal-sized neighborhood. Hills of wrecked cars and pillars of wheels were the closest thing it had to natural features. Most likely it's got to have at least half a dozen angry mutts guarding it.

Ashley looked both ways on the sidewalk to make sure nobody was looking. Bending her knees, she jumped over the fence and casually walked deeper inside. True enough, she ran into several, snarling pit bulls on the way. One look with her devilish eyes though and they ran right back.

She stopped once she got near the center of the entire yard. "I know you're heeeeere..." she whispered. The key was in her hand and she held it up.

Without any care for the noise, her face broke into the happiest smile as she heard something roar. It sounded like a vicious beast from the distance. But as it grew closer, with the sounds of bashing steel heralding its wake, one could hear the roar underlied with the rumble of an engine.

It bulldozed through a pile of junk right behind her and she turned excitedly.

Before her was the most beat up Ferrari anyone could see. All that was left of its red paint was large blotch over its front. The door on the driver's side was completely gone. Dents and scratches weren't the worst things that could be said of its state.

Yet despite all that, Ashley ran over and threw herself over the bent up hood. "Awww... you missed me didn't you?" she cooed. Red headlights flashed and vehicle actually rumbled in response.

"Yeah... Lien took real good care of ya all right." she added. But given the cynical tone, it was no surprise that the car only growled.

"C'mon... let's go for a ride." she said.

The car hummed in agreement as she tossed her bag to the passenger seat and jumped in. Jamming the key into the slot, she could hear the barking of dogs and the shouts of owners already nearing.

"Hehe... watch out world... " she shouted while lighting the ignition. The car's headlights blazed and flames engulfed the fenders and the wheels as it sped forward. Once they covered the whole thing, they vanished. The damage was all gone. A door was now on Ashley's side. The red paint was but a flame job over a sleek black. "Ashley Helstrom is back in town!"

000

**Author's Note:** Well that's all for now. I won't lie and say I'm a little peeved with myself for the utter absence of reviews. Then again, I don't update a lot because of a busy life. Still, whoever's out there reading and happens to like this, please be kind enough to leave a comment. ^^; (Hmm... maybe I should just switch categories... :\)


	4. Tessa's Story: Of Oaths Fulfilled

**Author's Note: **Well, here's the fourth chapter. As always, I apologize if it's still rough. I'm kinda juggling this fanfic with an original story along with my day job. On the brighter side, it's not as dark or smutty as the last one. Consider it a sort of standalone intermission story about the weary life of those commanding officer types.

000

The noon sun shone its blinding light across the cloudless sky. But despite the heat, a cool breeze flew across the dark surface of the ocean. A lone ship floated in its midst with sails furled and bound tight.

Far ahead was an island lush with tropical forests and on the beach was a small, seaside village. Other ships had docked there as well and in various shapes that hinted to different other cultures. There were galleons, junks, and even a few longships.

And as expected, a thriving, colorful market could be seen from the deck. Traders in all manner of attire and nation mingled with the brown and green of the lightly-dressed natives. But despite it all, not a soul on the ship took the time to admire this scenery.

The vessel teeming with not only sailor. Soldiers dressed in mail and a few knights in thicker plates were also walking about. Most were preoccupied maintaining the weapons while the sailors devoted themselves solely on tending the ship.

One knight stood over a small table, flanked by two others. His armor was indistinguishable from the rest but his brown, matted hair and coarse chin had a commanding look about them. His bluish eyes had a stony look as they scanned the map that was on the table.

"Once we are finished here, we should either cut across these islands or circle around them and make straight for the Port of Matthaios." he said, drawing his finger across a dark, green archipelago and then tracing around it to a paler landmass that was roughly northwest.

Before another knight could add his input, a loud, pulsing sound suddenly drew everyone's attention. In the center of the deck was a large, ring of runes but overimposed by an even bigger cross with arrow-pointed tips. Latin script was written on all four of its arms.

The circle usually went unnoticed, faded even, but the reaction it received from the rest of the crew had revealed its true importance.

"Make room, all of you!" barked one female knight and the sailors scrubbing that particular area made a last, hurried swipe before backing away.

The circle was emitting a light of bright blue and its radiance competed even with the brilliance of the sun. No doubt the commanding knight could not be blamed for looking warily towards the beach. The glowing, blue pillar could draw unwanted attention as well from its onlookers.

Fortunately, he knew the light would soon vanish as a mass of either began accumulating at the circle's center. The aether dispersed, along with the light, and swept across the deck as a mild gust.

A young woman straightened up from the remaining aether. Her armor was quite distinguishable even from other women on the ship. It was more feminine for one thing. Her stee faulds went far over a long battle skirt of blue. Her gauntlets, greaves, and plate were similar to the rest save for the emblem of a bronze eagle on her chest. On her right shoulder was a pauldron hammered into the face of an exotic bird of prey. In contrast, a simple spaulder rested over her left.

Her hair was pale white and tied into a large braid by a red ribbon. A pair of hazel brown eyes opened slowly before taking their new surroundings.

"Commander!" greeted the lead knight but stopped halfway as his eyes took in the true state of his superior officer.

Her armor was badly charred in most places. Singes slightly smeared across her cheek and her sword was missing.

"It is not as bad as it looks." she assured him.

"It is if you have been touched by dragonfire Commander Tessa." he spoke doubtfully while his eyes inspected her armor.

"Ganthir, you know as much as I do I would not even have an arm left if such were the case." she calmly argued before striding over to the map.

"Well... what of the dragon?" asked one of the knights.

"He is stronger in the air..." said Tessa, "... and takes to it just as fast. We will have to revise our strategy. What word of our spies?"

"They are safe but if we are changing strategy, we might as well change course." Ganthir replied soberly.

"What do you mean?" Tessa asked with a quizzical look.

"The dragon mage is a friend of the locals... and sentiments against the Order are rife among the traders." he explained, "Our spies have confirmed this and they are lucky to have left when they did."

"We best sail further south before people take stronger notice of our sails." he finally advised, "... assuming they haven't already."

"I see..." said Tessa, "If is for the best, south it is then."

She placed an unscorched hand to her chin and studied the map carefully. "But let us stick close to shore." she added, "I have found the dragon's lair and I know we have no need to pass the seashore village to get to him."

"What if the locals have some form of protection as well?" asked one skeptical knight. "For all we know, he could already be down there starting a riot."

"And even if the merchants stay out this, it is quite clear that they will have a less charitable impression of the order." said his partner.

"How we are perceived is irrelevant." Tessa coldly stated, "It always was and always will be. What is also irrelevant are the natives. The dragon deceives them much like he himself is deceived by the lies of this world. To strike him down would be to strike down that illusion and open their eyes. As messengers of God and knights of the Church, we must use the Truth to liberate them from this bondage."

"We stick close to shore." she firmly repeated, "That is an order."

Ganthir hung his head apologetically for his subordinates. "Understood," he said before nodding sternly to one of them. The knight sighed in defeat and began shouting orders to ready the ship. Crewmen scrambled immediately as the sails were unfurled and the anchor was hoisted. A few more soldiers ceased their maintenance and began assisting as well.

"So what changes are we to implement in the new strategy commander?" Ganthir then asked.

"We make greater use of our numbers to meet him in the air and then take that advantage ourselves to keep him grounded." she explained, "We'll have to make the most of all our mounts as I've seen him capable of shattering flight enchantments."

"What if he summons another dragon?" asked the remaining knight.

"That is what we must avoid." Tessa replied while unrolling a blank parchment. Her finger glowed with blue aether as she inscribed her battle plan on it. "Fortunately, he would likely expend a great amount of mana to summon such a creature. We will use counter magic so that he will be completely open and spent for capture."

"We could also banish his beasts," said Ganthir, " but our main objective remains: How are we to drag him down?"

"It's quite simple." said Tessa, "His transformation is actually his own enchantment and once dispelled, it also has a dangerous side effect of leaving him severely weakened. Our only disadvantage is that he knows all this but I very much doubt he will do much to prepare. He fights no differently from the rest of his ilk: like a wild animal."

The ship went slowly along its course but by the time it was late in the afternoon, Tessa's ship was out of the village's sight (and vice-versa). There was now only beach foliage and tropical trees swaying in the warm, southern wind.

"This shall be a night raid then?" Ganthir asked.

"But of course, the cover of night will prove advantageous." Tessa replied as the soldiers returned to assembling themselves. "Normally, I would not advocate taking so much action so soon but in this case, we are not dealing with a nocturnal adversary."

She said these words with the same stoic, impersonal manner as always but one glance in her eyes and Ganthir she was quite confident.

Now if only his own instincts weren't so troubled.

"COMMANDER!"

The elderly knight sighed wearily in his head as those instincts proved true. From the crow's nest, a male squire slid down frantically with a scope in hand.

"Look!" he said, urgently handing the scope to Tessa before pointing to the sky.

The young woman looked through it as directed and her eyes widened instantly. "Shieldmages at the ready!" she shouted.

A series of piercing roars resounded across the orange sky before it was covered by a swarm of wings. An entire flock of dragons was making its way from the lone spire of her foe's hideout. The sun's rays flashed across their scales of gold, green, and red. Slenderness characterized their builds with serpentine necks and lean muscles. Short yet sleek horns crowned their heads while their crimson eyes glared with not hunger but fury.

The first assault came seconds after they flew in range. Some shot streams of fire from their maws. Others spat it out in large, explosive balls. The shield mages could barely keep up conjuring barriers and redirecting the flames. Their blue domes and metamagic wisps fizzled in the face of the heat and burning light. When a few managed to break through, sailors and soldiers flew across the deck with the splinters of singed wood. More fire caught on to the sails before quenched by harassed frost mages.

One glance and Tessa knew only one thing would result if this kept up: chaos. She had to get her men together. And despite the protests of her arm, she rushed close the central mast while grabbing a longsword on the way.

She closed her eyes and raised the sword's tip above the wooden boards. Her mind stilled in focus and reached deep into her memories. Golden light flashed as she recalled fields of ripe wheat and sun setting on her little farmhouse home. The warmth of white mana flowed into her and she felt its strength reverberate through her blade.

Opening her eyes, she the blade alight with the serene power and plunged into the floor. But instead of piercing wood, it phased through and another circle materialized from the point. Its appearance was completely identical to the one before save for its new color.

Pulling out the sword, she raised it high and it released an even greater flash of light. Above, the fires began to divert. An invisible force seemed to actively dispel them. Not even the smallest ember could touch the ship now.

"Zephyr mages, to your positions!" she barked and several sailors and soldiers scrambled behind each of the sails. Their hands raised up towards them and large circles began to appear on their canvas. Like Tessa's, these had runes of rings around the edge but in instead of a cross, a simpler, four-pointed spiral was imposed upon them.

The sails filled up with and the ship gradually increased its pace. Meanwhile it was only though Tessa's sheer power alone that provided safe passage away from the marauding dragons.

Upon getting further out sea, their foes could no longer keep up and finally retreated. But at that point, Tessa saw they had in fact succeeded. The ship was now too far into the ocean and sailing back would only mean sailing back to the swarm that was likely still lying in wait.

"What now commander?" asked a morose Ganthir.

Tessa sighed wearily and spoke words that forever left the most horrid taste in her mouth, "Change of plans."

"Where to then?"

"North for now." she answered, "No doubt every one us here is in need of rest. Tend to the injured quickly and repair the sails. I will determine our next course by morning."

Dinner for the crew was a quiet affair save for the orders being carried about and the occasional protests of pain from tended burns. By all accounts though, it was a miracle that there were no serious casualties.

Everyone except for Tessa had to eat their meals on deck as much work still needed to be done. That didn't mean she had neither food nor labor on her own plate.

Her cabin was large but it was open to all and she spent the rest of the evening munching only on bread and partaking a small bowl of broth. Despite Ganthir's insistence, she tended her own arm (and easily did so as her skill with healing wasn't exactly subpar).

Bookshelves were on port and starboard walls of the cabin. Volumes of bestiaries and arcane texts filled them completely. A larger, round table preoccupied it and the large map was all that preoccupied her while she ate. A white, wooden ship represented her vessel while a black miniature dragon stood for her most recent adversary.

Another sweep across the map revealed two more black miniatures, no doubt indicative of the other foes she has already fought. Further north, on another archipelago, was a rat. Far to the west, a hulking, humanoid construct.

Finishing her food, she began drawing more aether lines across the map, starting from the point of their next destination. The result was a sort of crossroads with routes that wound east, west, north, south, and everywhere else in between. And at the end, a port was marked by a glowing, blue dots that slowly faded.

A swirl of numbers ran through her mind. Supplies. The numbers who are injured. The time it takes to recover. Their rate of travel. Even the speed of the winds and currents were taken into her calculations. But no matter how much she ran through, something kept her from selecting a final route. Her conundrum expressed itself as soon as the multiple routes faded and replaced by a singular line that split north. One path went further to the islands were the rat miniature stood before traveling south and heading west. The other forsook the northern lands completely and simple went in that direction.

She massaged her head gently but laboriously. Something could not be determined and her heart fell ill at ease making a choice before it does.

The sound of approaching footsteps calmed her for once. Perhaps knowing more about the damage would help. She knew something had to be done, anything, to make up for the obvious failures that had transpired.

"Any more to report Ganthir?" she asked before turning around.

"No more than what you already know." the senior knight answered, "I just came to see if you're still straining yourself over our next course."

"What else would you have me do?" she grumbled, leaning her weary backside against the table, "I ask that most sincerely. This is the third rogue planeswalker whom I've failed to contain. Furthermore, I've failed to fulfill our oath to the Two Empires-"

"From what I recall, the oath you made was not to bring the dragon in irons." Ganthir said, "It was not even made to the Empire but to a woman in good standing in the one Empire's court. You did not fail her as much as we all failed the Church in this task."

"She gave us information." said Tessa.

"She was not exactly discreet with the dragon mage's identity." Ganthir replied with a small smile, "The true oath you have yet to fulfill is currently rolled up in your chambers, by your bedside."

Tessa sighed and slowly walked past him to the door. Perhaps it was better if she just went and tended to those who still needed tending.

"That scroll hasn't showed any signs." she said, "We cannot afford to answer its call when we will be too far on the voyage home. We have other orders. You know this."

"That I do," Ganthir firmly spoke, "and I also understand the burden which you bear to arrive at a decision."

He placed a hand on her soldier just as she considered taking another step forward.

"That does not mean you need no rest." he added, "I've experienced enough of the wilds in other lands to know what you just went through to find that dragon. I can tell you spent all night waiting for him to fly out again in the morning. No amount of healing will stave off your sunken eyes for long."

He could feel her shoulders tense but then droop. "Many of my soldiers are hard at work." she spoke, "It just feels wrong for me to rest when there is still so much to be done."

"You have done enough for the past few days." said Ganthir before dropping his hand, "No doubt you will do more. But for now, rest. It's not like they won't be turning in soon after you."

She couldn't tell if she really was too tired to argue or that she understood his point. Either way, she turned and headed to the door further to the back of the map chamber.

Despite her rank, she hardly demanded for a large bedroom. The only thing spectacular about was the large window at the very rear end of the ship. Dark, violet curtains had been drawn over it and the only source of light came from a single candle on a bedside drawer. Her bed was very simple, with plain evergreen covers and a chest at its foot. No doubt it stored her armor and what few other clothes she had.

Her arm had fully healed by then and so removing the charred gauntlet was painless as when she then took off the rest. Each piece was placed orderly upon her bed. Reaching for her back, unzipping her battle dress was the one thing she needed to slip it entirely off her front and down her round thighs. Her physique was quite curvaceous that had been belied by the bulkiness of her knightly gear. Its lack of emphasis was only due to the small bloomers and modest chemise underneath.

It would seem that such was unnecessary in the privacy of her own room. Regardless, she would not allow even herself to look down and find cause for vanity. Instead, she folded her dress and placed it alongside her armor before heading over to her chest.

A large, nightgown was inside with long sleeves and classic frills. Over her head it went and her arms quickly slid through till everything was in place. A few minutes later and her battle gear was stored away in the dress' place.

Heaving another sigh of exhaustion, she fell on her knees and clasped her hands together wearily. She had forgotten how beat up her legs after trudging through all that jungle foliage. Large roots had bruised her feet when they made for uneven, bumpy ground. Her muscles ached from having to cut through the vegetation. The presence of beasts ensured they had only little rest. No matter how many jungles she has traversed before, it was always a dragging, painful expedition. She could only assume that it was by God's grace that she had the fortitude and the resolve to push on.

Speaking of which, giving thanks for it was all that went through her mind as she prayed. A few more were drawn from memory yet she recited them passionately with the same mind. Before finishing, she glanced a the drawer and briefly reflected on Ganthir's words that spoke of her true obligation lying within. Still she felt nothing.

Standing up, she blew out the candle gently and went under the covers. Her eyes closed even before the darkness engulfed the room. And as she laid there, she listened to the creaking sound of her moving ship. The groaning of wood and the distant splash became her means to lull her mind.

For six hours, this worked. Her mind was free of heavy thoughts but not lost in a depressing, dreamless oblivion. She had no need for sight but only sound and the sensation that cushioned her sleeping form.

But suddenly, something disrupted the melody of this natural lullaby.

**THUMP****!**

Tessa's eyes threaten to spring open but she reined her wild reflex just in time. Yet again, there was another bump coming from somewhere close, dangerously close. Its loudness overcame the soothing creaks of the moving ship. It slow persistence heightened her wariness. Focusing hard, she concentrated her mind to pinpoint the source.

It was then that she recalled the drawer and opened her eyes in realization. She quickly sat up and glanced. True enough, a powerful read glow was flashing threateningly through the drawer's gaps. Its wooden body shuddered as something inside strove to push it open by itself and break free.

She rushed over to it and yanked the knob. Immediately, a cylinder of fiery red launched itself from the drawer. It hovered unsteadily in the air and its orange light came from the sparks and embers the sprinkled from it but somehow did not set either wood or sheets on fire.

The light barely lit up the room and Tessa was hesitant to let her hand touch it for fear of what might happen. As she slowly did however, a few words were called back into her mind.

"_Should __I __ever __call __you __to __fulfill __your __oath__, __this __will __let __you __know__."_

Looking more closely, she then recalled that the cylinder was in fact a as scroll. Made of thick paper, its knobs on both ends were round and flat. A glyphic, branch-like symbol was stamped on their surface and they too gave off the same burning light. According to her knowledge, this symbol was called a '_kanji_' and was a form of writing native to the scroll's place of origin.

As the aura threatened to grow even larger, she knew she would never see the end of this if she didn't act. Slowly, a single finger grazed the paper surface. Its aura did not burn but quite hot enough to be excessively warm.

The scroll almost snapped open when it unrolled. Upon it was an even larger _kanji_ and encircling was a ring of several more that were several times smaller. These strings glowed just as intensely and also spread out from the ring like a magic circle.

The paper stiffened into a sheet as it floated in front of her. In the next second, it flipped itself over the ground and smacked itself across the floor. Before Tessa could react, the paper had begun rapidly deteriorating into greater tongues of red aether. Only thing left were the symbols that were now written on the floor.

Just when she thought the light couldn't get brighter, she found herself shielding her eyes as the symbols lit up their intensity. The sound of raw power surging echoed across the room. She could feel the wild pulse of red mana coursing through the walls of the ship and the shouts from below knew it had woken the men as well.

Her feet moved without any regard to her dress as she bolted through her door.

Once through the map room and out onto the deck, they froze in place as her eyes beheld the sails. A red kanji had marked itself on all the canvasses, each adjusted in proportion to their size. The largest ones obviously stood out the most to her and it took a few seconds to register something else that was going on.

Several of the men were scrambling for rope as different parts of the ship moved roughly by themselves. Over at the helm, Ganthir was struggling at the wheel as it forcibly wrenched out of his attempts to steer. Tessa sped up the stairs leading up and rushed over to him while the others could only look around in confusion. The vessel was steering itself towards and entirely different destination.

"Ganthir wait!" she commanded, "Tell the men to stand down!"

"Stand down!?" Ganthir replied but he was only half-surprised, "I trust you have a better understanding of what is happening right now." Though a brief nod was all the answer she gave, it was perhaps enough for him.

"Everyone!" she then shouted to the crew over the wooden railings, "Let the ship be for now!"

"Commander what's going on!"

"This is Red magic! I know it!"

"Did those savages plant a curse without us knowing!?"

"The Commander has told you all to stand down!" Ganthir barked as he appeared at her side before turning to her. "Well, what happened?" he asked.

"You remember the scroll?" she began, "It just opened, right when I was already deep in my sleep. It's struggle to free itself from my drawer woke me. But at the moment I touched it..."

She made a brief gesture to the sails and sighed. "Wonderful." she groaned quietly, "All that time I spent calculating for our next course only to have a meager scroll force itself on us without explanation."

"To employ such heavy-handed tactics, It would seem our contact in the Edo Empire may have a dire need for our aid." Ganthir suggested, "Who knows? Perhaps it is a bigger sign. Maybe the Lord has answered your prayer for knowing which path to take next."

"Ganthir, you know me well enough that I cannot help my doubts." she grimly replied, "I expected the scroll to act merely as a signal. I did not expect it to unleash untamed, pagan witchcraft on my ship"

Though as soon as said this, she sighed and added, "Although... it as as you said. I gave her my word. Perhaps the truly divine act was that the scroll did what it did before they reached a point where return would be difficult.

After giving the order to Ganthir to have the men resume their rest, Tessa went back to her room. Her feet dragged more and more wearily each time. Once she reached her bed, the lullaby of the ship was no longer needed. Her consciousness gave way from the weight of so much exhaustion.

The next sound she woke up to was the mild pounding on her door. Sunlight was falling through the thin gaps of her curtains.

Again, the pounding continued but she knew it was just Ganthir having to knock it with his thick gauntlets. She appreciated it actually as she always feared taking too much rest. Throwing off her blanket, she landed her feet on the wooden boards as loudly as she could. This would tell him she heard. As if in response, the knocking stopped but was soon replaced by the sound of Tessa herself moving to don her armor.

"Have we arrived?" she inquired as she reopened her chest and started taking out her gear.

"We are mere moments away from making port." he answered through the door, "It also seems clear that the sign on our sails carries weight among the locals here. They've vacated a particular port. Am I to understand that we are to wait there for whoever summoned us?"

"You understood correctly." Tessa confirmed and made the final adjustment with her gauntlet. Ganthir stepped aside the moment she opened the door and followed her faithfully as they stepped back on deck.

Judging from the brightness of the sun, it was nearing mid-morning. As she feared, she woke up a little too late for her liking. Just yards away from the ship, she could see the piers of Edo's port, with its red gates called _torii_ marking their end. Their round pillars supported a narrow room that curved inwardly typical of an oriental style.

The port was as busy as the seaside village which they had left. Here too many merchants from different lands had docked, displaying their exotic wares. The only few differences were in the form of the locals, their behavior, and the attitude of the merchants themselves upon sighting their ship.

The natives of the previous isles were dressed in a very tribal fashion (with tribal being a word Tessa would rather replace with indecent). Many wore little clothing at all save for green and brown cloth. The more modest elderly donned grass skirts and rough ponchos. Much of their interaction with the foreign merchants consisted of constant trade, delivery, and bargaining.

Over here, the locals were dressed in _kimonos_, and _hakamas_ that seemed modest at first glance but Tessa noticed several were too form fitting. But more different was their reaction to the merchants. Many were curious while some (presumably merchants themselves) had far more critical eyes when they examined the goods in their hands.

"Well... where are they?" grumbled one of Ganthir's subordinates, "They have some nerve bewitching our ship like this and not even bothering to show. Surely we must not stand for such disrespect Commander."

"With patience, we can and we must." Tess coldly yet calmly responded, "I swore an oath to that woman in exchange for her aid in locating the dragon mage. But the sooner we fulfill that oath, the better. Our order, as well as the Church, would stand better to be in good graces with the Edo Empire. Fulfilling this oath will be a good start."

"And it would seem our opportunity has arrived." noted Ganthir as he pointed ahead, to a much larger and darker _torii_ gate that marked the main entrance to the port.

Perhaps it was the trick of the sun but the whiteness of her _kimono_ had always seemed so bright compared to the rest. Such was how the priestesses of this land (or _miko_ as they are called) distinguished themselves along with their red _hakama_. Yet even among them, the young woman who was now approaching their ship carried with her other effects that Tessa was yet to see on other _mikos_.

Just like her, this priestess carried a sword at her side. It was a katana sheathed in a jet black scabbard. It matched the color of her long hair which fell straight with only two strands on either side tied into loops by red ribbons. Strapped diagonally to her back was an impressively large scroll, a rope of hemp bound it to her from shoulder to waist.

With her arrival, Tessa now saw the reactions of the people when the ship was first sighted heading to shore. Most of them did their best to shy their eyes away from the _miko_ but it was difficult with not just her appearance. Flanking her were two imposing, female samurai. Few of the merchants had begun whispering amongst themselves. An entourage like this clearly indicated that she was in a position of power much like herself.

Tessa gave orders to bring down the plank immediately while selecting Ganthir and his subordinates for company.

"I'm glad to see you have answered my summons Rovere-_san_." said the _miko_ with a small smile. However, this smile did not extend to the sharpness of her eyes nor that of her entourage's stoic faces.

"Indeed I have Sakurano-_san_." Tessa responded in turn (and in the priestess's own tongue no less), "I take it then that you have a grave matter that requires the aid of my order?"

The _miko_ simply nodded and made to turn around. "Come, we'll discuss this in the temple." she said. The knight commander's party followed suit while bearing the stares of the people.

Once past the larger gate, they were officially within the territory of the Edo Empire. The foreign presence here was as sharp as it was in the seaside village. She had only a glimpse of the night life there as her foray into the jungle was a hurried one. But like it, everyone was there to partake of Edo's culture. The only difference was that it was the merchants coming to the locals and doing the buying this time as bringing their own goods would have brought them too far from their ships.

Still, she could feel a mild bitterness in her thoughts knowing all of them were only accepted under the overhanging rule against proselytizing. Everyone was free to show and sell worldly goods but they ban the spiritual goods her order brings.

It was why she could never fathom the sight that surrounded her party. Everywhere men and women walked to and from the port. Their kimonos increased in the variety of colors and patterns. Some traveled with a load of their own goods while others left with much lighter cart.

The houses appeared flatter compared to the houses in the order's homeland. The roofs curved inwards much like the _torii_ gates but only wider. Children ran past them carrying paper pinwheels or those sticks skewering round sweets in sticky, brown sauce. As noon fast approached, some have taken to open up their parasols while others cooled themselves with ornate, paper fans.

The samurai were not the only ones bearing swords. Fighters and guards alike roamed the streets alongside many of those she would suspiciously classify as rogues and mercenaries. A few were even sparring to test the mettle of each nation's warriors.

Further in though and it grew less crowded as they entered the more suburban area of the town. She could tell from the way the houses raised their floors upon platforms in a manner traditional to the Empire. Here more people were inside quietly cleaning or otherwise resting peacefully until lunch. And at the center of it all, there stood the large temple.

It was clearly meant to be more majestic than its surroundings. The ebony roofs piled on each other in two floors while zig-zag shapes of paper hung from each corner. Ivory white colored its walls in a typical fashion. Its green, grassy gardens were a direct contrast to the pale, dusty ground which surrounded it. The building's finer detail was clearly far more elaborate and signified its religious importance to the pagan population.

Luckily for Tessa, she knew where they were really headed. Right after the black _torii_ gate, their party turned right and walked upon the path that circled the shrine. A few other _miko_ sweeping the grounds passed them by and while a priest shot suspicious glances but did not say anything further.

A smaller building awaited them behind the temple but it was still as large as the houses nearby. Its roof though matched that of the temple's so that it was hard tell apart from the rest of the building.

Only Tessa and her correspondent walked inside. It was a staple custom to remove one's shoes upon entering any household. Unfortunately, Tessa's greaves made it difficult to comply and she thought better than to trouble herself so she entered. Sakurano's samurai entourage made their disapproval clear in their face but the knights stood strategically closer to the doorway.

That didn't stave off the consequence of the next local idiosyncrasy.

"Please, sit." Sakurano with a polite gesture to a nearby table (despite the extreme shortness of its legs). Outside, one of the samurai women smirked but turned around so it was possible for only the commander to have seen. Sakurano however maintained a graceful and polite air (she may have even understood the hassle it would take to sit in such armor).

Sighing in resignation, Tessa crouched as low as she could and let her skirt and faulds spread. Her legs knelt to one side in a fashion that was remarkably ladylike but it was also a contrast to the imposing image she would have rather exerted on any she met.

"_Dozo__..._" said Sakurano as she gently set down a ceramic tea set and poured out the native, green brew. Tessa took hold the cylindrical cup just as gracefully (an impressive feat as well given the gauntlets she wore).

"I trust my information was useful, yes?" Sakurano began, "Did you capture the dragon mage?"

The disappointed frown that Tessa gave would have been enough but she answered honestly nonetheless, "Unfortunately, no. I came unprepared. Thank you for your cooperation however, as well as your concern. On my oath as knight-commander, I will see the dragon answers for the crimes he committed here."

"Not just here mind you." Sakurano corrected, "Still, that is unfortunate... but onto business."

The knight lowered the cup after tasting the bitter but somewhat refreshing tea. Her opportunity to gain the Empire's trust for God and the Church was at hand.

"No doubt you may have wondered I chose to hand you an enchanted scroll instead of asking you to eliminate the dragon directly." she said and Tessa nodded in acknowledgment.

"You had another task in mind for me my order." Tessa immediately guessed but her eyes narrowed when Sakurano shook her head slowly.

"No... just you." she clarified and Tessa's eyes widened again.

"Beg your pardon?" she suddenly blurted in English.

"There is no need to remain silent about it. I know what you are and I am the same." Sakurano replied in English as well. Her accent was mildly thick and she resumed speaking in her own tongue, "The two of us are the only ones in this room or even in the whole town who can travel between this realm and the Outer World. We are both Planeswalkers."

"Is this why you're specifically requesting my aid and leaving the others out of it?" Tessa inquired, returning to the local dialect as well but it did not conceal the prod of suspicion in her tone.

"_Hai_." said Sakurano, "The true menace I am currently tracking is possibly far more dangerous but I strongly suspect his kind are closer to your specialty."

"However..." she added, "He lies not here but in the Outer World."

Sakurano stood and drew something from under the table (while likely demonstrating how its lowness is justified in the process). In her hand was something that clearly did not fit in a world where the written word was on bound scrolls and thick tomes.

It was a light brown folder. Plastered across the front with tape was a label written in type-written _kanji_. The small fact that there wouldn't be a typewriter for a hundred miles just goes to show how out of place it was.

The fact that Sakurano was another Planeswalker was no secret to either her, the town, or to the entire order. It was how she learned of her in the first place. Despite that, to think she would openly flash the great contrast between this realm and that of the other.

Such things always troubled the knight deeply and personally.

"About a year ago..." the _miko_ began again, "there was a wave of massacres in my city. The victims were all members of the criminal underground. Yakuza, delinquents, gang members, and even politicians of questionable repute."

"A vigilante problem?"

"Hardly. I myself have taken my sword to such villains and I hear you are no different. It was the manner of how they were slaughtered that drove me to identify the killer." she explained.

"And what manner was this?"

Sakurano opened the folder and slid it towards her. "See for yourself."

Inside were several lengthy paper reports, all type-written in kanji variations. Though instead of reading, her eyes immediately drew themselves to the pictures attached to them by clips.

She couldn't tell what repulsed her more: the sight of the mangled corpses and spreads of dried blood or the fact that she was seeing something that did not belong. The bodies were all shriveled up and it looked like the many dungeons she had frequented, crawling with undead. A few severed hands still clung to their katanas and nailed bats. Chests were shown to have hearts torn out. Several heads could be seen with faces rendered beyond recognition by massive claw marks. The tearings of flesh and twisted bones at the necks were inconsistent, as if they weren't lopped off but struck up with such great force.

"Clearly you have a demon on your hands." Tessa presumed, "If you presume such is my specialty, you are very well on the mark."

"Precisely." Sakurano said with a smile, "Although, I do not believe any mere demon or _oni_ could accomplish this. At one of the crime scenes, the police also found something that would be of great interest to your order."

She took a lone photograph, larger than the ones in the folder, and placed it before her. Drawn in blood was a symbol. Its shape crossed between a crown and a hand. Five spire points tipped upwards, the ones closest the center grew taller with the long middle spike as the tallest. While below, two lines curved together downwards into a much bigger spike.

It was the symbol of the Planeswalkers.

"So it is not just a demon..." Tessa gravely surmised, "...tis a Planeswalker who wields their power, erratically at that. Still... even knowing that, I can think of only a few reasons for why he would leave a symbol so carelessly."

"I believe you and I are having the same suspicions."

"He is challenging us."

"By 'us', surely you are not limiting this between ourselves." said Sakurano with a bold smirk, "Since it involved criminals, half of the media found it difficult to report the killings as significant asides from how gruesome they were. But as they tried to tone it down, word of it continued to spread across the streets. In such a highly connected world like ours, it did not take long for it travel across other nations."

She paused and at last took a sip of her own tea. "You know as well as I that these places have others like us." she said, "As we speak, who knows how many have already identified the killer or are even moving in to challenge him?"

"Then they will only know this: the Order of Charlemagne always sees to such things first and sees to them soon after." Tessa coldly responded, "Now... am I to assume this is all you ask."

"There is something else as well." Sakurano continued, "No matter how wild or unpredictable the killings were, he made it seem like they would never stop. Yet suddenly, they did. For six months, the reports ceased and no more was heard of the killer. More than that however, I managed to discover something else, something else that connected all the victims."

"Asides from living lives of shameless thuggery?"

She gave a quick nod and reached for the folder. Her finger drew her attention by tugging several of the documents further behind. Taking the hint, Tessa slid them out before her eyes grew even wider as she put the rest down to scan it.

These documents were not separate but were in fact pages of a much larger file. Yet despite no intention to read the _kanji_, she could not put of the feel of foreboding as she saw the photographs there.

Women. Girls. Some of them were barely into adolescence. The pages contained numerous pictures of their faces, painstakingly pasted to profiles hinting to what this list could only be.

"Every single member of the massacred groups was heavily invested in human trafficking." Sakurano explained, "Particularly... well, I suppose you have already the idea."

"What happened to them?" Tessa asked automatically.

"That is my other concern." spoke Sakurano, "As the killings continued, they were not among the bodies. I grew more suspicious to learn that female members of the syndicates had also gone missing. But when the killings stopped... they started showing up."

"What?"

"_Hai_."

"That is... good news is it not?" Tessa said confusedly.

"If it were, I would have been satisfied charging you with the dragon mage's capture instead of summoning you when I needed it most." the _miko_ answered, "I spent nearly a week checking up on them but by then, I had already felt that something was seriously wrong."

"Such as?"

"For one," she explained, "not all of them had in fact returned. Most were only students and former gang members. Secondly, many of them all somehow claimed to have not been there when the killings were taking pace."

"That is suspicious. You think this Planeswalker has somehow ensnared them?" Tessa posed.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Sakurano admitted, "There have been more rumors on the streets of a new syndicate that has taken over the gap left by the annihilated groups. I supervised countless investigations only to find smeared tracks every time. Whoever this person is, he's good at staying ahead."

"His motives are now clear as well." Tessa added, "From start to finish, I would say your story only describes a despicable individual who uses dark, ill-gotten powers to seize their women for himself."

"Would it be safe to assume that I now have your cooperation Rovere-_san_?" Sakurano asked.

"I would go so far as to take him into our custody." Tessa answered.

"I'd prefer if you just killed him." the _miko_ spoke bluntly, "But then again, they do say that death is preferable to the sentence your order imposes on rogue Walkers."

Sakurano stood up and Tessa saw that this was to mark the end of the discussion. "So, how soon can you be ready?" she asked.

Tessa had not forgotten that this request is made of her personally and she would be disallowed to involve anyone else in her order. As Sakurano briefed her, smaller thoughts set to work on this at the back of her mind.

"I must speak with my men. It is their right to know the sudden changes this will entail." Tessa replied.

"I'm afraid you must do it quickly." Sakurano apologetically insisted, "We leave tonight. Just the two of us."

Any other of her subordinates would have protested at this point. They however, were not planeswalkers. It would take much of the order's resources to send even a small force to accompany her on this mission.

Such were the words that she soon spoke to Ganthir and the others. Ganthir himself was troubled but one look from him was all it took to silence the protests his subordinates were about to make.

"It is non-negotiable at this point." Tessa sternly declared, "I must assist Sakurano with her investigation and hopefully bring this demon-worshiper to justice. Ganthir, I leave it to you and the men to choose between waiting for me or sailing back yourselves. Either way, make sure our superiors are informed ahead of time."

The old knight heaved and this made it clear that he was only repeating his concern over her dedication to work. "Understood," he said.

Tessa gave a few more additional instructions that would make her return to the Outer World easier. By the time night has fallen again, she was presented with a satchel full of clothes she would need there so as not to stand out. Her armor and sword would stay but only in reserve until the moment to confront the rogue Planeswalker presents itself.

To her slight surprise, she was told to meet Sakurano back at her house. Inside, there was ano light save for two candles that were lit on the low table. The shrine maiden instructed her guards to keep the door closed so as not to disturb them, much to the mistrustful looks of Tessa's soldiers.

"You ready?" asked Sakurano as they both sat the same way they did earlier that day. Her hand was in between the candles, reaching out for hers.

The knight adjusted her satchel and made to check if her sword was firmly in place. "Yes" she answered at last she grabbed her hand.

The knights and samurai outside heard the sound of a soft breeze and instinctively looked inside.

All they saw was an empty room and the wisps of smoke rising out of blown candles.

Of the many things Tessa hated about being a planeswalker, this was among the worst. The feeling of volatile mana battering her was like waves in a cosmological sea of violence. In here, she could only take much solace in the warm light of White mana and the coolness of Blue. Fortunately for her, another force was now guiding her hand and she could feel that its owner was in mutual agreement with her need to get out as soon as possible.

Her body felt like it was swimming upwards without her accord. But at the same time, she trusted this path in the same way she would trust an elevator that was wild but ultimately managed to reach its destination. Such was the only way in dealing with the Blind Eternities.

True enough, she could feel the pressure of the wild aether quickly leave her body, replaced by the coolness of a dark room.

"We're here."

Her eyelids winced and she could feel brighter light flood around her. Opening them, she found herself in a much larger room. The only thing close to windows were the wooden grails near the top of the ceiling. Beneath her were polished floorboards of pale brown. Outside, it was as dark as when she left but she didn't have to listen closely to hear the strong pitter-patter of rain. Half of her wondered if she was smelling humidity or that some part of her mind was still spinning from the Eternities.

"Change quickly." she whispered as she went to part one of the doors slightly and check outside. Tessa frowned slightly at such an abrupt command. Banishing her armor was quicker than manually removing it plus it saved up storage. The obvious downside however was that it was more mana intensive and she wished to abstain from using magic at all if she could help it.

Taking a deep breath, she hurriedly put down her satchel and raised up one arm. The light from her metallic plate grew so bright, it ceased to resemble steel before both armor and sword dematerialized into aether shards. All that was left was a runic mark on the back of her neck and her puffy unmentionables.

Few more minutes passed and Tessa was now standing behind Sakurano dressed in a white blouse and a long, black skirt. The plainness of her dress would have made it easy to mistake her for a teacher were it not for her height.

"Ready."

Sakurano nodded and slowly opened door wider. Another small surprise awaited her on the porch.

Two school girls stood guard in the same manner as the samurai entourage. Granted, they weren't carrying swords and where samurai had armor, they only had sailor uniforms with long sleeves and a dark blue color. A white stripe ran across near the hem of the short skirts. Their reaction to the obvious foreigner was far more curious than hostile.

"So this is her...?" said a tall one with a boyish bob of violet. The way her hazel eyes scanned here could have been everything between boredom to unimpressed.

"Not what I expected. I thought she'd be a knight with armor and everything." said a shorter one with brown pigtails curled into short rolls on either side of her face.

Tessa turned to look at the door only for it to slide shut behind her. Hasty thoughts began to race at this little revelation but she held them down with the assumption that this might very well be a minor detail.

"With all due respect, neither did I expect highschoolers to involve themselves in Planeswalker matters." she responded with as much stoic and less cool as possible.

"_Oi_ what does that mean?" said the brunette as her brown eyes narrowed.

"Take it easy Amane. She's still here on Misa-_dono_'s request." her partner calmly warned.

"But Kaname-!"

All three heard the sound of the door sliding open and Tessa's head looked back. Sakurano stepped out dressed in the same uniform. "So you're a student as well." Tessa noted. She had always thought the _miko_ was quite close in terms of age. She never expected it to be that close.

"I'm not sure as to what else you were expecting." Sakurano responded with a smirk that felt a little unlike her, "I'm barely a year older than you yet we both of us have done things that seem beyond our age."

Contrary to this statement, Tessa always thought of Sakurano incapable of reading others so well. But just now, she took great discomfort to see this just worsened the worst of assumptions she had about her. She can see their points of disagreements slowly rising.

_It__'__s __bad __enough __to __have __been __dragged __into __this __magical __mess __without __working __with __the __vigilante __sorts __eager __to __dive __into __it_, she told herself, _but __that __will __have __to __wait__. __This __killer __must __first __be __dealt __with__. __I __might __even __strike __two __birds __if __I __make __my __plans __carefully__, __as __always__._

"So, where do we begin?" she asked.

"Tomorrow." Sakurano answered, "Tonight, you will stay with me while these two work out your temporary enrollment."

"What?" said Tessa as her mind put weights on her feet to root her in place.

"I'm sorry if this seems abrupt." apologized the _miko_, "but it is necessary that you be a student here until the case has been solved. Our current suspects are in fact right within this very campus."

Tessa quickly looked past Sakurano's two schoolmates and saw that they were indeed facing the rear of a tall, pale green building. It had about four to five floors all lined with large windows. But despite their sogginess, she could see the chairs and tables of the classrooms inside. Several of them still had students in the midst of cleaning.

"It is certainly abrupt," Tessa replied a little too coldly, "but I have done this before. If it is not too much to ask, I would rather you at least inform me of such things beforehand."

"Watch yourself _gaijin_." snapped Amane, "I won't have you dictating Misa-_sama_. Don't forget you're here on _our_ terms."

"That's enough Amane." Sakurano scolded.

"Eh?"

"Please understand, our guest here is known for her emphasis on details." she explained, "That is what we need right now if we are to bring this diabolic conjurer to justice... am I right Rovere-_san_?"

Tessa cordially dropped her demeanor and stepped down the porch. "I must admit Sakurano-_san_. This is still the first I will ever infiltrate a school like this." she stated, "Hopefully you were aware of that."

"Don't worry." Sakurano assured with her back to the knight, "You'll fit right in."

It was still raining by the time they arrived in Sakurano's apartment. Judging from the way she was addressed (and defended), she would have still thought her a girl of noticeable standing. Instead, all she saw was a young woman barely distinguishable from the Japanese masses that filled the bullet trains they used to commute. Students and office workers. Delinquents and call girls. They were all there and all were to her distaste (though far suited compared to the nightmare land that had dragged her in). Even more fortunate, she managed to find a seat instead of taking risk standing. The unbelievable warning sign depicting a man touching a woman's skirt didn't help her view of this country's society.

Sakurano lived quite well-off regardless. They arrived in a building that was far less dingy than the ones she's had to visit (or worse, stay) during her past investigations.

"_Tadaima__..._" Sakurano quietly greeted her home as she flipped the lights on.

The inside resembled a condominium much more closely though not as spacious. There was a low table of white but this one was round instead of the traditional rectangle. The warm carpet covered the entire floor and contrasted with the cool air-conditioning. Asides from the entrance, the place had four other doors. Three of them were on the left while one more was on the right.

Sitting across the table was a flat-screen television and behind that, at the far most end, was a sliding window panel. Beneath it was a short bookshelf and from the folders on top, more folders and files lay scattered as proof of the _miko_'s continuing efforts.

It didn't take long for her to recall the custom of removing shoes in people's houses here. Good thing her civilian guise came with a pair of brown, leather shoes that were easy to slip off. At her side was her empty satchel which she was still unsure where to set down.

"You hungry?" Sakurano asked as she went to the one door on the right. Chances were, it must've led to a kitchen.

Tessa had to admit that the hour was late. She could see the city lights twinkle as raindrops continued to drizzle against the glass. Many planeswalkers had found that the journey between this world to the other was enough reason to be hungry.

"I suppose." she finally answered as she took a seat near the low table. It barely even occurred to her that whatever dinner she would have here stands to be different than the what she was used to. On the brightside, she could sit more freely without her battle dress.

The sounds of knife work on the other side of the door further proved her guess about the kitchen. And after that, the smell of unfamiliar soup wafted from it along with a hint of fried fish.

She glanced towards the files again and wondered if Sakurano would mind only to dismiss it indignantly. Her part in this investigation already gave her enough right.

It was actually difficult enough to speak Japanese. Reading it was another challenge entirely. It took a while (and a spark of blue mana) before she could scry the meaning of the characters.

All the documents she read so far were more elaborate reports on the massacred syndicates. And judging from the pile over the shelf, the body count was as bad as she was told. Further details went into describing their connected involvement in the underground sex trade. Their modus operandi covered everything from extortion and illegal recruitment to rape and kidnapping. As much as this operation sickened her, knowing that someone butchered all its heads just to take it for itself was even more so. Does Sakurano truly understand the danger of facing them? It would have been easier if she took it upon herself. Now she had to worry about the _miko_ as well as her classmates.

"I wouldn't bother if I were you." said Sakurano's voice, "All you will find there is more of what I have told you."

"Well as you said," Tessa mused as she continued to browse nonetheless, "I'm quite stern when it comes to the details."

"I did say that." Sakurano admitted with a smirk, "Well in any case, dinner's ready. Let me know if you found anything else."

The knight commander finished one folder but decided to pursue the rest once she's had something to eat. Entering the kitchen, she was greeted by the smell of fish and some sort of mild broth. The sink and counter were relegated to the corner farthest from the door. Its cupboards were found both above and underneath. The dining table near the counter was the usual sort (much to her relief) with four chairs on either side.

Her meal consisted of just what she smelled: a simple serving of fish and soup she then identified as _miso_. Being a soldier, she was used to eating whatever was given to her without complaints provided it was enough sustenance. A look across the table to Sakurano told her the feeling was mutual and they ate in silence.

"Um... Rovere-_san_?" Sakurano spoke, suddenly breaking that silence, "You don't need to force yourself."

Tessa froze, knowing full well what she meant but asked still, "Whatever do you mean?" Her face remained solid and stony.

The _miko_ pointed her chopsticks at the ones in Tessa's hand. One was teetering over the other like that of a crab with a lopsided claw. She could feel the large sweatdrop as the whole scene was destined to be awkward from the beginning.

"Spoon and forks are in one of the cupboards." she said while resuming her meal. (Tessa could swear she saw a smaller sweatdrop from her as well but she'd sooner recover from this than care for it.)

Just as she stood up, she heard a sudden clap, like two wooden planks clapping each other rhythmically. But perhaps stranger still was it felt coated in an electric buzz.

A ringtone.

"Yes, Kaname-_san_?" answered Sakurano, holding a red iPhone to her ear, "You've done it...?" _Souka_... you'll two be coming over then? All right."

A beep signaled the call's end but one look was all Tessa needed to know about it. With a sigh, she quickly began searching for the utensils and then ate her meal swiftly without sparing any time to dwell on more embarrassment.

The doorbell rang at the exact moment that she finished and even took it upon herself to wash while overhearing the voices of the two subordinates. But other than the words "uniform" and "rumors", she noted nothing else to bring up when she finally joined them back in the living room.

Immediately, a disgruntled Amane lifted up a blue paper bag up to her while sitting cross-legged at the low table. "Wear _everything_ in this bag and make it quick." she grunted.

"You will be staying in that guest room, over there." Sakurano added (albeit more courteously). Briskly did Tessa go inside to change but a few minutes later, they heard a groan disbelief. When the door opened again, she came out dressed in the same uniform (complete with a skirt that was just as short).

"I suppose when you said 'everything', you really meant it?" she asked them all but her eyes cast an accusatory glare exclusively at Amane.

"Oh so you're wearing it?" spoke not Amane but Kaname.

"I take it was you who picked _them _then?" Tessa asked, redirecting her eyes towards her.

"What are you talking about Kaname-_san_?" Sakurano asked as well and it pleased Tessa that they too harbored slight suspicion.

"Forgive me Misa-_sama_." Kaname apologized, "But I saw what she wore under that armor and I have a feeling that sort of style gives people away."

Sakurano shifted her eyes thoughtfully towards Tessa but sighed, showing that she understood but disliked it nonetheless. "Very well... I'm sorry Tessa-_san_ but you must bear it as Kaname-_san_ is one of the few I turn to when it comes to blending in. I hope you will share my trust in her."

"If it really cannot be helped..." said Tessa, "But if we're going to work together, I wish you'd all be a little more honest with me. Let's the keep the nasty surprises to a minimum shall we?"

"Sheesh... to think we'd ever meet someone stiffer than _oujosama_." Amane muttered, turning her face to the side.

"I heard that." Tessa and Sakurano both spoke frostily (and sting the violette twice as bad).

"Sorry."

"But since you mentioned that," Sakurano then continued as attention turned back to the knight, "Speaking to me so formally might not be a good idea either. I'd rather we all be on a first name basis. All right? Tessa-_san_?"

"Very well... as one Walker to another then, Misa-_san_." Tessa responded almost coolly but Misa only smiled.

Glancing at herself and then to the three, the knight mentally sighed. Here she was, standing bashfully in a _seifuku_ for the first time. Before her sat three school girls who had more or less taken her into their little circle of highschool enforcers. Around her was a tranquil room that she would most likely grow accustomed to for the following months.

All this simply for the sake of diplomacy and having an oath to fulfill. She embraced the virtues but loathed the circumstances. Had such circumstances been normal (_blissfully __normal_ her thoughts added) she would have simply felt like a foreign student who had finally made friends in a strange country.

What she wouldn't do to have had that instead of seeing the machinations of that accursed world still underneath it all.

000

**Author's Note:** Well, not much to say after this really save that it may be a while until the next chapter. Again, please review and if anyone actually reads this, I would appreciate some tips on getting a story without having to change its category. I feel like if I switch chapters just to give something like this a little more exposure, it'd be cheating. Thanks and have a nice day! :)


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